That there might be something in the effect of time spent alone, time spent on ones own either by choice, or as a necessity due to a particular way of life.
When do we first notice that we are on our own.
I moved to the small town of Holmfirth when I was thirteen. Eventually I left behind my friends in the tiny village of Birdsedge, some six miles away, but not until I had spent many weeks cycling to and fro.
One day I was sat in Victoria Park watching some boys play football. I thought if I watched them often enough they might ask me to join them. After several days as a spectator I did join in, they became my friends, I was soon a member of their gang.
This ice breaker led to many more friendships, more friendships than I am now able to recollect, it was a significant step, and it was a step I was conscious had to be taken. It was a time when I knew I was on my own.
When do we move from being uncomfortable on our own to being happy or content to be on our own.
The time sat watching the boys playing football, waiting to be asked to join in, was not comfortable. It was probably also a discomfort to the boys to see me sat there, sat alone, day after day.
Yet some days not everyone would join in at football, sometimes people would go off fishing or cycling, go off doing solitary activities, mostly I would stay with what was left of the group. I had had my time alone.