Much hairdo about nothing

Calling Through The Fog

popebunPic: George Peters – airworks-studio.com

I was a Waldorf child.

It’s not something I’ve been very public about because people can be cruel, mainly because they’ve lost touch with their guardian angel or are not eating enough yoghurt. But I was one, for better or for worse.

Our class was a tight-knit family (one plain, two purl, cast one off … yes that woollen tiger is coming along beautifully…), and we learned about the world in a free-flowing way. Sometimes also a free-falling way: I recall a lot of tree-climbing and quite a lot of crying. Our uniform was the dirt on our knees and the only examinations we ever had were for lice.

Soon, however, it was time to choose a high school. I was proving exceptionally talented at Israeli folk-dancing but I was not sure that this was a career that offered comprehensive medical cover and so I…

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