1973 - Mr Connor lived across the street from me. He had three thumbs. On one hand he had a second thumb growing out of the first. To me it looked both grotesque and fascinating. I used to tell my friends about Mr Connor and his three thumbs but they would never believe me no matter how much I tried to convince them.
To prove my point I would use some cunning. I kicked my football into Mr Connor's back garden and bring my mates with me to knock on his front door. I would ask for Mr Connor to retrieve my ball and apologise for disturbing him.
Mr Connor was a nice man who always obliged when I offered an apology. He would troop off to his back garden to look for the football. When he returned and held out the ball to me he revealed his three thumbs. I would yell in excitement "LOOK! Ah told ye! Th'ee Thumbs!!!" My mates would ogle at Mr Connor and his three thumbs like it was an atrocity exhibition from a freak-show.
"Eeeaauuuggghhh!!!" shouted one boy.
"No way, he HAS th'ee thumbs!!!" exclaimed another.
We would retreat with Mr Connor shaking his fist and shouting abuse at us. I was however, left with the satisfaction of saying to my disbelieving mates "I told ye’ so!"
In 1973 it didn't take much to make a nine year old feel on top of the world.