No. This was the first time – I believe – that I invented a story for the entertainment of my classmates, and to make myself appear more interesting. A school friend of mine had been to visit his cousins, who had chinchillas. These animals lived in a big, complicated cage and were let out to be petted and to climb on my friend’s shoulders. As he described visiting the chinchilla-cousins, and the fun he had had there, I saw the attention he was getting from our mutual classmates, and I wanted it for myself.

So I invented my own story. If it was exotic pets they wanted, that was what they would get. I said that an uncle of mine had a cockatoo, a white parrot, and that it had come to visit us. It sat on my uncle’s shoulder, making him look like a pirate, and ate pieces of fruit from my hand. I don’t know where I got the cockatoo image from, why that in particular and not a monkey or a ferret or a snake. But it worked. Some of the attention I coveted came my way. My friends even debated which was better, cockatoo or chinchilla, which annoyed chinchilla-boy no end. Graciously, I sat out this debate, proffering no opinion of my own, and secretly rejoicing that in some eyes my fictitious bird trumped his stupid rodents. It was so easy. It resembled magic – my brain had improved reality and captured the admiration of my peers, at no cost and with very little effort. Of course I would do it again.

A few lies down the road, I realised there were costs and hazards. I had to remember all the details of my edited reality and keep them consistent. If this uncle had come to stay with us, where had the cockatoo slept? Did it have a portable cage, or a perch, or what? No one had the knowledge to gainsay what I said, but I had to ‘know’, to invent, a terrific amount of supplementary knowledge to answer their questions, and I had to remember it. The more invention, the greater the risk. Other times, I stumbled into areas my classmates did know about, which was dangerous. One Monday morning, on a whim, I said that I had been taken to Thorpe Park at the weekend. But a friend of mine had been to Thorpe Park, and recently, and quizzed me about what rides I had been on and which were my favourites. My vague half-answers made him suspicious. He didn’t openly challenge my story, but I could see him doubting it. This close shave should have stopped me – I can remember swearing to myself to stick to the truth – but in the end I was simply more careful, I put more thought into lies and deployed them with more caution. I refined my craft.