When I was a child I often dreamt about the “wonders” of the “grown up” world. I would muse upon this while in bed, peeved by the fact that the adults were now indulging in some magnificent activity that was beyond my comprehension and that I was excluded from. What exactly did adults do during the time I was at school or asleep? It was obvious there were gaps in my knowledge and in my naivety, I had the most fanciful speculations. Life for a child in the UK during the seventies was a very regimented process. School dominated the day. This was followed by a short period of “freedom” upon returning home, a meal, homework, some TV  and then bed. Furthermore you were constantly reminded by adults to be content being a child. “You don’t want to grow up too quickly” I was told on many occasions. Apparently this part of my life was the best bit. So I rolled with the situation and got on with my childhood. Yet the adult world was still there, like something on the horizon that was always out of reach. Hence my nocturnal flights of fancy.