I Became a Collector	27
	flies and postage stamps for a loftier passion. It marked another step in my career. I might have stayed a collector all my days if love and enthusiasm were all, and if I had never had to think about my bread and butter. But even at the age of eleven or so circumstances were making a merchant of me. I used to catalogue my specimens, even then, in big block letters two inches deep. This methodical habit, which later stood me in such good stead, brought me into conflict with my mother at the time, for I had for lack of any other commandeered a laundry book and torn out the pages already covered with details about shirts, hand­kerchiefs and sheets. The discovery of my crime caused no little commotion on the day the laundry came back and no one could check it. But apart from such alarms I suffered much for owning a collection, for whenever I neglected my homework or committed some mis­demeanour my elders swooped down upon the drawer which contained my treasure, and I lost it for a day or maybe longer. They found it very useful.