Because of this, when I was little, I was both a frustrating and a frustrated child. I imagined I would instantly be very good at any hobby I put my mind to, and when it turned out I wasn’t, I would immediately quit (because I was, and am, also very lazy). My mum started making me a ballet leotard, but never got to finish it. I started drama club, and then didn’t want to actually go into the room. I’m pretty sure my parents paid for karate gear and a guitar, which both proved useless. Although I suspect now that they may have indulged us quite a bit - my older brother once said he wanted to get into falconry, so they got him one of those big leather gloves that lets you hold a murderbird safely. I mean.
