A rather dreamy child who grew up, went away and then came home.
I grew up as in the heart of the Scottish Borders as an only child in a large and close knit family. When we were children my cousins and I spent days roaming around, building dens in the woods and dams in the streams. Every summer we were issued with a new baggie net for catching minnows and a cagoule to keep the rain off. My all time favourite gift was a dodgy stuffed weasel from my uncle John – boy did the great aunties jump if you left it on a chair. All the grown-ups were great story tellers in their different ways and nothing happened, be it ever so mundane, that wasn’t turned into a grand saga or, more likely, a comic caper.
I spent many years in the City impersonating someone serious, but I suspect never quite carried it off. I have therefore come home and am steadily reverting to my factory settings.