I come from a long line of shy people. My mother was shy, as was her mother, and possibly her mother before her. Before I started school, I wasn’t aware of my own shyness. Probably because, living as I did on a farm in rural Scotland, I didn’t meet many strangers.
Maybe our groceries were squeezed one by one through the mail slot in our front door by a shy deliveryman, because I can’t remember meeting him. Similarly, the butcher must have chucked our meat over the garden fence. Either that or both these men showed up during one of my afternoon naps.