When I was five and living in Kuwait, I was spending a pleasant evening on the beach where we lived as we did most days. I was invited by a neighbour to 'watch cartoons' in his house. As I was a little bored I willingly went with him. Once in his house however, even at that age I realised things weren't right. His breathing had gone all funny and he lifted me up and asked for a kiss before he'd switch on the T.V.. He was all sweaty and grunty, ugh! I'd had it drummed into me since birth that you are never rude to grown ups, but on this occasion My instincts kicked in and I, in turn, kicked him straight in the goolies. He dropped me screaming and I ran outside as fast as I could and resumed playing with my siblings. I never told anyone because I felt it was my fault, and I knew I'd be in trouble for kicking a neighbour and for wandering away from where my parents were. I'd put myself in that situation. After that I became obsessed with reading body language. I learnt very quickly that what grown ups said and did didn't often match up. It was confusing, but I knew I had to trust that little voice in my head, it has rarely if ever failed me.