S & I agreed last night, you’ve got to try else what is the point?
So, we are both trying. It may get worse; it may get better; it may stay the same.
For me, it seems the dogs are a bit of a problem but not insurmountable. Come the end of January, I shall ask everyone I know in case they can help me. I don’t often ask for help as I am fiercely independent ever since I first left home at 18.
Actually, that was not the first time I left home. I left home several times. I had a small suitcase, brown and battered. I don’t think I ever had it from new but I have no idea where it came from unless it had been bought new when we went to Guernsey when I was about 5. I can imagine it was bought for that trip.
Anyway, the suitcase had been well used. I packed the suitcase with important items – a pair of trousers, a jumper, some biscuits and some orange squash. After all, I didn’t know how long I would be gone and I knew I would need sustenance and a change of clothes. I packed though the tears were rolling down my face; I packed with determination; I packed with courage – and fear, of course.
I left the house without saying goodbye, more like a thief than someone who lived there. I didn’t want any hysterics at my going – they would find out soon enough. I didn’t want any tears, except my own as I was the one who was hurting, not them.
We lived in the countryside, in a small village. I walked down the driveway and onto the road, turning right. The hill seemed very steep and very long. I don’t remember looking back as I climbed that hill but I probably did, fearing that someone would come after me – hoping that someone would come after me so that I could prove to them that I did not need them.
I reached the top of the hill and must have looked back before turning the corner.
Soon after I came to the crossroads – to the left was the road to the church, the right to the main road, straight on was unknown.
Fearful of the consequences of continuing what I was doing; angry at the world for treating me like this; determined that, one day, ‘it would all be different’, I turned round and went home. I was about 7. I was quite a stubborn barsteward even then!