You know how you have memories that seem real, but somehow you know they are not? They are memories built on recollections that other people have had about your past, or even their own.

You may not have such memories, but I certainly do!

Read the previous installment in this series: How's your father? Part 5

These are exactly the kind of memories that I have of preschool. I remember only what people have told me, the memories of others that have been recounted so vividly that they are now embedded in my subconscious.

I am told that my preschool years were played out in Albany, in country Western Australia.

I have no confidence in such memories. I know they are not mine and see no point in discussing them now.

I also have very few original memories of my first four years at primary school. The first two were spent at Gosnells Primary School and the second were at Cannington Primary School. My memories of these two august institutions, in working-class metropolitan Perth, are sketchy at best.

The fact that I attended two preschools and three primary schools did have a lasting effect on me. This is not a memory though, more like an assessment, confirmed by at least one therapist.

It almost certainly helped make me less capable of making social connections and far more self-reliant than I might have been.

I made very few friends in my first nine years of life. Those friendships that were formed were not lasting. None endured for more than a year and, 50-plus years later, I have no recollection of any of the friends I might have had over that period. There are certainly no original memories of friendships and only very sketchy memories of the many people I interacted with, including my teachers.

To this day, I find it hard to make social connections. I cannot help but wonder what impact my formative years had on my capacity to make friends and interact with people in general.

To this day, I generally feel most comfortable when alone and can't help but wonder how much of this is learned behaviour. I also find it difficult to socialise and can't help but wonder if this is a result of the small number of birthday parties I attended in the first nine years of my life.

My therapists and I have no doubt that there was an effect, although the full extent will never be known.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not suggesting that the ‘travelling effect’ I experienced during my first nine years was entirely bad. Far from it.

I believe it brought me closer to my parents than I otherwise might have been and that, I suspect, has enabled me the learn more of the lessons they had to teach. The self-reliance I learned over that period has stayed with me and proven very helpful in getting through difficult times.

I suspect that over that time, I started to learn to enjoy my own company, a skill I am very grateful for. In learning to enjoy my own company, I suspect I also learned the joy of thought and developed my passion for thinking - and thinking as deeply as I am capable of.

I am sure, during that period, I learned just how fabulous the country can be and how special the quiet there can be. I remember none of this, but suspect that my love of country solitude came from somewhere.

In my life today, I enjoy few things more than the times I spend in quiet contemplation on my farm in the South-West. I really appreciate my self-reliance. I enjoy my time alone almost as much, possibly more, than the time I spend with lovers and family.

What I have become very sure of is three things.

Firstly, the impact the first few years of life can have on the skills and capacities of an individual is substantial. Secondly, every experience brings positive and not-so-positive effects. Thirdly, there is benefit in understanding those skills, capabilities and effects.