My childhood, like most childhoods, had some significant disturbances and traumas. As I have grown older, I have become more and more inquisitive about these events, and who I am and why I am who and what I am.

Both my parents are dead. My loving father died when he was 42 and I was six. I never said goodbye to him nor him me. Children were “not allowed” (or so I was told) in cancer hospital wards. Nor did I attend the funeral. Again, not allowed, or “inappropriate”.

My, now single, mother, who I adored and became best friends with (if Dr Freud excuses it) went out to full-time work a couple of years later and left me alone for long periods, although I had a dog for company. Then, from a joyous, creative, artistic time at primary school, I was sent to a boarding school in the centre of the city. All creativity stopped. Space, time and peer group acceptance prevented it. I hated it for three years, tolerated it for two, and resented it (not much partying or getting to know girls) for the sixth form.

On reflection, I feel that I have had a fair share of being abandoned, rejected or ignored, as well as gaining an appreciation of being alone, of having peace and solitude. It has made me extremely resilient, self-reliant and independent, which has helped me greatly. But it also has led me to be slightly immature and uncertain around women.

I feel that this work is about further connecting with my real self, my inner child, my heart and soul, understanding who I truly am. It is also about enforced disconnection from loved ones, things and places.

It is a story about me waving goodbye to parts of life that I loved and treasured. A disappointment perhaps is that they didn’t wave back.