"eeeyong", I went, holding a tiny model spitfire as I ran through the schoolyard. The boys and girls made fun of me because my arm swung backwards and forwards as I ran. They said that an airoplane didn't fly backwards and forwards as it flew along. And, close to tears, I said it could. Fifty eight years ago. I'm still that little boy and old enough for women to offer me their seats on the bus. Huh.