WHEN people submit themselves to analysis of any sort, there is a fair chance whoever is doing the analysing will try delving into their childhood to suss out what makes them “tick”.

Freud didn’t invent this idea; the Jesuits are supposed to have said “give me the child until he is seven”, meaning this was the optimum age for establishing the subject’s character traits. That concept formed the basis of the Seven-Up television documentary series, which featured my elder brother, among others.

However, I have found myself in a position to do a bit of self-analysis without the need for expensive therapy, reality TV or even the intervention of the Jesuits. It all came from my parents having a clear-out, and presenting me with a scrap of paper they uncovered.

It was a primary school report for yours truly. I won’t reveal the date, but it was headed “County Council of the West Riding of Yorkshire”, a body which hasn’t been around for a while. I was eight at the time, so not far off the age in the Jesuit saying.

What insight, I wondered, might this document provide into my personal development? Thinking of all the people out there with similar scraps of paper mouldering in their attics and garages, it was clearly my duty to check the report against the ensuing reality.

There were ten graded areas; I got one A, one B, three Cs and a C-plus and four Ds. An A was “excellent”, while a D was “fairly good”.

My A was in reading, but I got a D in writing. This will be no surprise to critics of this column, although further examination of the report leads me to suspect this was largely a reference to my handwriting rather than my literary skills (the handwriting bit will be no surprise to my colleagues).

I got a C in arithmetic, which possibly explains why I didn’t follow my brother into science, and Ds in nature study, art and physical education. In the first case I lacked “observation”, in the other two the problem was “manual dexterity”.

The head teacher’s conclusion was as follows: “Andrew is an extremely intelligent boy [she did say that, really] who is held back by poor manual dexterity and by a failure to sustain interest in a project for any great length of time. Unless he can overcome these, future results will suffer.”

I’m not sure that’s the most positive assessment I’ve ever read. Was it an accurate forecast of its subject’s future?

Well, people still hate my handwriting, so that one stands up. As for manual dexterity, I recalled after reading this that as a child I had great difficulty catching a ball, or anything else, which made playground games and school sports quite a trial. Thankfully, my hand-to-eye co-ordination improved vastly in my teens, but you wouldn’t want me doing brain surgery.

I never was much good at maths or art. I managed a B in history aged eight, which is intriguing since I now have a degree in the subject, and I would never have even got to study for it if I hadn’t managed better grades than Bs.

But the observation that both intrigues and disturbs me is the one about failing to sustain interest. Is that true? I have at times wondered if I’ve walked away from situations, both personal and professional, before I should have done, but I’ve also persisted with some things in my life for far longer than was good for me, so I don’t quite know where I stand on that one. So, apart from leaving me with a vague feeling of disquiet, where has revisiting my eight-year-old self got me?

My conclusion is, maybe it is worth going searching for that old school report, but I think you’ll still need someone else to provide an objective view on whether its insights still have any relevance for you – the sort of objective view the report was intended to be in the first place. Happy hunting.