Prologue
If I’m to be totally honest with you, and I plan to be, I’ve always been a little bit dramatic.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not like one of those annoying screechy types, the kind that everyone hated at school but pretended to like because they were too scared to say otherwise.
I very rarely wish to be the centre of attention, (except sometimes when I’m really drunk,) and although I’ve told my fair share of porky pies I’m not one to make up stories in order to obtain the shock factor.
But I suppose it is safe to say that right from the very start I have carried an air of drama around with me.
Whilst most kids were playing, ‘Mummies and Daddies,’ I played out my own version, ‘Switched-at-birth-and-desperately-seeking-my-long-lost-family,’ for example. Despite my being from a fairly average town in suburban Surrey, all my games were played out in an American accent and they usually always involved lots of crying, wailing and general over-acting.
As a teenager the drama just seemed to increase, but then again, I suppose it increases for every poor soul going through the torture that is puberty. I do think though that I was perhaps more of a handful than some.
I’d decided at the grand old age of seventeen, back when I felt as though I’d already seen and done it all, (and bought the T-shirt and taken it back and got a refund,) that all I really wanted out of life was simplicity.
Seven years on and my aspirations really haven’t changed at all. Trouble is fate clearly has other plans.
© S Connolly 2008
