Which reminds me of a painful episode that took place when I was eighteen. I was much enamoured of a young university student, and I always strove to gain her favour by being interested in the things she liked. One day she informed me that she intended to take the Psychology class at St. Andrews the following session. I had never heard the word before, and I made a bold guess that it had something to do with cycles. In consequence we talked at cross purposes for a while.
"I'd love a subject like that," I said warmly.
"Most of it will be experimental psychology," she said.
My enthusiasm increased. I thought of the many experiments I had tried with my old cushion-tyred cycle.
"Excellent!" I cried. "A sort of training in inventing. Cranks, eh?" At that time my one ambition in life was to invent a folding crank that would give double power on hills.
The lady looked at me sharply.
"Why cranks?" she demanded. "I don't see it. Psychology has nothing to do with crystal-gazing you know."
I was gravelled.
"But what's the idea?" I asked. "Improvement of design?"
This made her think hard.