ABSTRACT
The only people we can think of as normal are those we don’t yet know very well. (Sigmund Freud)
Physical prowess was a differentiating feature that I became aware of from an early age. As
a pre-schooler I used to cheer on my father, who was a champion axeman, taking vicarious
pride in his skill. At school, I became aware that my athletic ability was above average, to the
degree that I regularly won races and jumps, even holding school records at one stage. I was a
good rugby player, mainly because of my speed, although I rather lacked the robustness and
courage required to advance to higher levels. As a boy, I constantly measured myself against
other boys in tests of strength and speed. I think my first awareness that not all people have
physical attributes necessary for managing their lives, let alone for excelling in sport, took
place when I was at primary school. At one stage, we lived next door to a veteran of World War
I – to me, a somewhat frightening man with one eye, one arm and one leg, who always seemed
to be grumpy. My early heroes were wrestlers, whose exploits were regularly broadcast on
pre-television radio. They were closely followed by the successes of New Zealand’s renowned
rugby team, the All Blacks, initially via the radio, then through film and eventually through
television. Despite my admiration for physical prowess and my modest successes in such pur-
suits, I resolved quite early in my life that I did not want to follow my father into occupations
that centred on physical work, such as farming. Rather, I came to prefer the more sedentary
and cerebral life of academia.
