Lots of words very little punctuation(except brackets)

How far back can you remember?Your earliest memory, the first time that language and vision came together effectively enough for you to store a snapshot of yourself for the very first time, the first little step you ever made in creating the intricate maze of sights, sounds and touch that you have today (I have amused myself greatly in writing this, a moment of possibly mature thinking marred now by my own psyche thinking "intricate maze of sights,sounds and touch?"-what a pretentious twat). I was talking with the lovely Ann today about this, and the difficult thing is obviously trying to think which one would have been the earliest, you have no distinct timeline when you're very small (as in a child, I am not suggesting the vertically challenged are in anyway unable to visualise time scales and walk around not knowing what year they live in or indeed whether they have hit puberty). Also- and this is touched on in my mothers note memory and the nth dimension(how amusing I believe I just "cited" my mother)it is very difficult to be sure that you remember things yourself or from what you have been told and have seen in photos. For instance I remember sitting on the old yellow swing in the back garden, wearing a blue dress with white spots-however there is a photo that I have seen countless times of this exact scene so I'm probably not really remembering it-false memory syndrome(see my note on when I met santa for further proof of it's exsistance-the false memory thing not Santa, just to be clear).There are certainly some memories that I have though that I believe to be all my own: worryingly I can remember having my nappy changed(I have checked and this isnt due to the fact that I was ten and still in nappies thank god, that would be a smidge traumatic), I remember not liking it because it was a disposable one and the table stuck to my side and pinched a bit, I remember being in my cot and pulling at the yellow wall paper by my head-and then my parents discussing decorating my room which made me think "A HA!, nice new wallpaper to peel off-excellent"charming little brat that I was. Also being in my red buggy and Mum letting me out, as soon as my feet touched the floor I was off like a shot, I remember my determination to flee!escape!explore the world on my own all at the tender age of two or three, my little feet pounding the pavement and then all at once I fell!DISASTER-I don't know if you remember but the world actually ends when you fall over as a child, you'll be all happy and joyous one minute and then a snivelling sobbing dribbling wreck the next, this time was different though. Instead of hurtling to my doom I tripped, my feet went sprawling out behind me, my hands went down to cushion the blow and.....nothing, I opened my eyes and by some sort of Matrixesque miracle I found myself hovering inches above the pavement! My mother in her infinate wisdom had guessed there might be some sort of break for freedom(she's not psychic it's just that I did this every time)and put on those reign thingys, shockingly she had been quite able to keep up with my lightening pace and had managed to pull up the slack enough to prevent the inevitable hysteria that would have ensued had my knee lightly grazed the floor. When she hoisted me back to my feet I was a little subdued and decided to put off my asperations for world travel until I was a little older, after all we were only minutes away from the house and look at what had nearly happened!Then of course there are those things I have previously touched on, sticking a bead up my nose to see how far it could go, forcing my arm down the back of the radiator-the actual intention being to see how long it took for it to get stuck(half way through neighbours if you're interested), getting a new doll and being really really excited about bringing it into play group, on the way there I fell over just before we got to the car park (Mum wasn't on the ball that day so the world actually ended). After a lot of consoling I was ushered into the open arms of one of the playgroup teachers who asked to see my beautiful doll, rekindling some of my preapocolyptic excitement I held her up only to discover her head had fallen off when I fell(brings a tear to my eye even now).I also remember my first encounter with reverse psychology, I was a bit older but still pretty small. The whole familly were supposed to be going to see Jamica Inn at the Salisbury playhouse. We all got ready and were standing by the car...all of us but one, who shall remain nameless(except if you read this bracket then you will see that it was Sarah). Dad was trying to cajole her to no avail, I can't remember why she didn't want to go but I do remember that on this occassion she was forcibly carried to the car(Mum and Dad were clearly set on instilling culture into their childrens lives). I don't remember the journey down there but knowing what happened next I can only assume that Sarah( whoes identity I will take to the grave) was not overly pleased with the whole scenario and continued to rather vocally express her displeasure. When we arrived in Salisbury my parents decided to placate her by taking us all into C&A and buying her a denim jacket(super nanny would probably disapprove of this but then she is noteably without children so she should keep quiet). The twins were having none of this and proceeded to kick up such a fuss that they too were soon sporting their own denim jackets(you can imagine my parents looking at each other with tired sad eyes,"why did we have four of them? why are we being punnished"that look would say). As my mother dear was paying for the jackets I remember my father looking down at me and saying "now, you're far more grown up than them aren't you, you don't need a denim jacket because you're a good girl and are looking forward to the play", I remember looking up and feeling all warm and smug at my superiority and replying "no Daddy I don't want a denim jacket". It's almost tragic because I think the reason that my subconcious chose to store this memory for over twenty years was because that was the first time I had felt mature and clever. It didn't matter that I secretly had wanted a denim jacket(well who wouldn't? it was the eighties)the fact was that my Dad had said how grown up I was so I was keeping shtum, sadly though time has rippled outwards and onwards and now I see that memory for what it was, an ingenious intervention on my fathers behalf to prevent the injection of denim into my wardrobe. I shall stop this note now dear and devoted readers, numerous and adoring as you are I fear I may be keeping the ever enduring Ann awake with the clittering and clattering of the keyboard, and if she reads this note tomorrow discover that it was our earlier conversation that cause this disruption to her sleep it is highly likely she will never speak to me again, thank you and good night.