K is for Kindy. When I was a little girl in Kindy, we had to sit on the floor on little hessian mats with a cloth binding that our mothers had to make for us. The girl who sat in front of me had long plaits and I was fascinated with them. I was always in trouble for squeezing them – I wanted to know if the plaits could feel – I knew my own short hair couldn’t, but those big fat plaits looked so ALIVE – I can still remember trying to puzzle it out. No matter how carefully I tried to squeeze them, this girl would start to flick her head and look over her shoulder – and the teacher would be on me like a ton of bricks.