Dylexia how it affected (and still affects) me

I was born in the 1940's. Dyslexia wasn't generally recognised. I began life as a bright pre-schooler, learning to talk quickly and clearly - and once started I took some stopping (I still do!) I came from a family where books were plentiful and where I was introduced to the joy of a good book way before I began to read.  I was read to every night by my parents and the written word was as much a part of  my life as was the spoken one.  Learning problems at school were never envisaged - and when they occurred they took everyone (including me) by surprise.  I clearly remember being shouted at in primary school when I stumbled over a word I was trying to spell out and being told that I had just read the same word on the line above. But the two words looked completed different to me. I was not a bad dyslexic, and could overcome the disability if I was given time to sort the letters out for myself, in my own time.  If I was rushed, or laughed at, the problem magnified. Even today, when reading in public, nerves can cause me trouble and words can more and change places or even alter shape altogether so that they no longer look like words at all.

My love of the written word as both a reader and writer enabled me to overcome early difficulties although the disability has still left the legacy of my never trusting my own spelling - it used to be abysmal, now it's merely bad!