Hello there. I will start my blog by telling you about my earlier years.
I was brought up by my aunt (mother's sister) and uncle from the age of almost two. I was aware that I was not an orphan, but I wasn't sure during my younger years why I didn't live with my parents. I was also aware that I had a brother, and remember that my mother brought him round to visit when I was about three. A while after this I remember my aunt taking me on what seemed like a very long journey, and we arrived at this house where there was a man and woman, and some children, and my aunt was talking to the man, while I was sitting on the floor nearby playing with some toy which was lying there. For some reason I only remember one sentence spoken by the adults that day, and it was spoken by the man. He said "I'll take the boy, but not the girl." That was the last time I ever saw my father.
My aunt and uncle had an old dog who slept in a basket under the kitchen table. I loved that dog, and in the mornings before auntie and uncle were awake I used to get in her basket with her. She felt so lovely and warm, and it tickled when she licked my ears. One morning I went downstairs and she wasn't there, and I tried to go into the living room to see if she was in there, but the door wouldn't open. When auntie came downstairs I said "Where's Bessie?", and auntie said "She's dead." I think that's when I first had an inkling that life was a bitch.
