For as long as I can remember, I’ve always felt stupid. It's quite difficult for me to admit this out loud, but it’s a feeling that has been there since I was about 11. I have dyspraxia. In very simple terms, this means there are lots of things I struggle with. Really basic things, that even six-year-olds are capable of doing: dancing to music, buttoning clothes, riding a bike, catching a ball, walking in a straight line without falling over. That last one’s a real bugbear. Even my best friend’s toddler
– who hasn’t yet had his second birthday – is more steady on his feet than I am.