The long shadow of one teacher’s words

I've spent my whole life suffering from a huge lack of confidence around any D.I.Y., from changing a plug to Ikea self-assembly, from painting and decorating to electrical.

Having moved into a our new home 18 months ago, there are still boxes in the garage - shelves and cupboards for the utility room, wall-attachments for the garden - all of which rest there, waiting for us to find any handy man or woman who might come and do it for me.

Before we lost him, it used to be my Dad who would arrive to build that stuff.

Question - why my reluctance?

Answer - during my first year at grammar school (and that would be 1963), I was humiliated in front of the class by our woodworking teacher, who decided to make jokes about a poorly completed piece of my work.

I can't remember what it was - some sort of small wooden box.

He, of course, is long dead and forgotten - I can't even remember his name.

But I can still remember how he made me feel - my face reddening with embarrassment as the rest of the class laughed at his ridicule of me.

It's intersting isn't it - how we can plant a seed of self-doubt or self-confidence in another human being.

One nameless teacher punctured my self-confidence so completely that I've never been able to get that back.

And yet my Dad, when I announced to the family in 1993 that I had lost my shirt in business, quietly responded with "well - if anyone can get it back you can" - and because he believed in me, I did.