The Map has existed since I was 8.
I originally drew it in Mrs Beechams class with a 4B pencil.
We were asked to sketch a puzzle or a maze (using a ruler) and I knew all about such things very well, so I started to draw the Map in as much fine detail as I could recall. Which was quite a lot.
The results were, to my surprise, about a hundred times more complicated than anything any of the other children produced. I remember Mrs Beecham's reddish face when she saw it, how she looked at me through those cold eyes like my head needed so much serious sorting out.
She took me to Mr Temple, the head teacher, who referred me to the nurse, Mrs Baker, who referred me to my mother, Mrs Halstead, who came marching crossly into school and screwed the map up and put it in her pocket and booked me in to see a doctor that very afternoon.
I can't remember how I got the map back, but it's still here, hand-crumpled, just about intact, the recurring dream to which it refers still exactly the same.
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