I said in my first post that I'd retell some of the more bizarre events of my otherwise banal life, to perhaps show why I am as I am.
One day, when I was about five years old, my mother was walking me home from school. I was in a foul mood, but then I always was after school because I hated it so much (but that's another post). We lived on a council estate in a block of flats, and we still do. Now, my area's not exactly in the depths of the ghetto, but it's not the most reputable place for a young mind to flourish. I remember on that day, as we approached the wrought iron fence that barred passage onto the estate, I heard the sound of sirens. This was hardly rare for my area, so I took no notice. It was not till we tried to enter our building did I realise that instead of just speeding by, as most police and ambulances seem to do, they were parked near our block, right outside in fact. I was thrilled, and we walked closer. There was a yellow police cordon and a group of people standing in front of the only door into the building (the other; a fire exit that only opens outward). I was intrigued so I darted forward to investigate while my mother talked to the grown-ups. As they were distracted I was able to get right to the front of the crowd to see what was going on. Splattered onto the concrete floor, right in front of the door to the building, was a body.
