Rummaging through the past in order to clear some of it out, I came across a booklet I made at primary school entitled 'My Family'. Tells it like it was - well, mostly.
My brothers. Without ears or necks.
'My Self' - the details.
Happily for those around me, I no longer play the violin. Or eat baked beans.
Self portrait with strange grey hair, pox-like freckles and many flowers.
A frank, unsentimental appraisal of my mum.
Nearly all of what I wrote was the truth. Honest.