Then we would see each other week by week, at Assembly, at Edith Cavell School.
It was the head teacher's suggestion that he and I had some one to one time.
She knew I had some play therapy experience, and although I wasn't being supervised at the time, what was suggested was hardly therapy.
So they set us up in a small annex of a classroom with a window in the door for safeguarding purposes. Over a period of weeks, aided and abetted by me, the lad imagined and assembled a village out of discarded boxes and old cardboard.
I thought it was going really well and never did understand what triggered the crisis.
I never saw it coming. In rage my builder began to destroy the village!
I stood up and remonstrated!
Up he jumped, onto some spare desks.
He was as far away from me as he could get!
Dancing around on top of the desks!
Darting one way then another!
There was no way I could have caught him even if I'd wanted to.
Dropping to the ground, I made myself very small.
Instinctively, I had understood the child was expecting this angry adult to hit him!
Lesson's end found us both on the floor - calm and wondering what it was all about!
And me thinking I really, really did need supervision!
Last night I recognised the frightened child in myself.
The mirror image of my story is equally true.
I've not come to terms with those powerful people within the church who thought it necessary
to undermine, threaten, misrepresent and disadvantage me.
They frightened me so much that I failed to realise they find me threatening!