We saw in the previous chapter that I had successfully conquered the holiday camps of Wales with my singing and guitar playing (and the Welsh know a thing or two about good singing). I had jumped on a snowboard called oblivion and thrown myself down the black run known as world domination. About 10 metres after starting this slippery descent I hit the lumpy patch of ice called 'adults'. I was 9, life was fun, and yet every adult I encountered seemed obsessed with my future. 'What do you want to be when you grow up?' they would ask. Would I be a surgeon, a lawyer, a teacher? I was 9 and 'grown up' was a lifetime away. All I knew was that I was going to marry Clair Sparks (more on her in the next chapter) and be a rock legend who didn't need to worry about such adult matters as having a job. It was a difficult question, but adults require answers and I wasn't going to let them know that I didn't care about 'grown-up' matters. Like all good scientists I drew upon past data: I hadn't tried conducting brain surgery, neither did I have experience of sentencing psychopaths to prison sentences for eating their husbands, nor had I taught anyone. I had, however, had a go at singing and playing guitar; therefore, I predicted I would be a rock star. However, even at this early age I realized that not all adults would appreciate the raw talent that would surely see me parading across the lighted stage in front of tens of thousands of people. Some of them might not think that rock stardom was a good career prospect. I needed to convince them. Adults tend to think money is important, so I decided I should demonstrate that rock stars earn more money than, say, a 'respectable' profession such as being a teacher. I could gather some teachers and rock stars, find out what their salaries were and compare them. Effectively I'd be 'predicting' salary from two categories: rock star or teacher. This would require a t-test. I didn't know about t-tests when I was 9. Happy days.