JANUARY 1976: I experience my first snow in San Francisco. My mother, my brother, my father and I drive up onto a mountain together. We have a purple sand-mould with us, an octopus. We use it to make snow figures on the bonnet of the car and are thrilled when they fall off going round corners.

FEBRUARY 1976: I am back with my husband, leave him again and return home once more. My second son is born – I have to find a flat, a job and a crèche.

FEBRUARY 1976: My godfather gives me a course of riding lessons for my birthday. I jump in the air for joy.

MARCH 1976: Climbing a rock during a scout event, I fall and survive both arms injured.

MAY 1976: I fly a helicopter. It’s in the yard of the school next door. Once a year my school has a sport competition against this school. I skip the long jump to go and fly the helicopter.

MAY 1976: My father boards a plane. The engines fail. Everyone on board dies.

JULY 1976: I am invited to a birthday party. It is loud, everyone is playing rough and tumble. I sit alone at a table and say nothing. It is clear to me: I am different.