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My happiest memories of childhood are from the early 1980s, when we lived in a small village, eight miles from the centre of Hull.

I had two close friends then. We were the Westfield Lane posse. Lawrence was the brains of the operation. The other, Christopher, was rather shy like me.

Lawrence lived just around the corner. I’d spend a lot of time hanging around with him, as he had a great den in his garden, and a great imagination.

Unfortunately, my relationship with Christopher went sour after my dad ran over his bike, which he’d left on our drive. He never came around to play after that.

That was the age of innocence. Despite being only five or six, we were free to wander local streets without a worry. I have such fond memories of those days and friends.

But, alas, all good things must come to an end. For me, that end came too soon. Worried about my education, my parents moved me to a private infant school three miles away, and shortly after that we moved into a bigger house in another village.

That spelt the end of our little gang. No longer were my friends just around the corner, nor would I see them at school. I don’t even remember any kind of goodbyes. Our lives just diverged at that point.

I came across Lawrence a while back. He’s done very well for himself, his state education no hindrance to him at all. He seems to be head of logistics for a major British retailer. As circumstance would have it, we both settled in the same county, 150 miles south.

I have always regretted losing touch with those friends of mine. I have no idea what they thought of me after disappearing as I did, if they ever thought of me at all. If I could, I would make contact with them today in an instant.

Only, we now reside in such different worlds. Well, it’s been about forty years since then. I doubt anyone remembers that extremely shy kid who once wandered amongst them.