Monday, October 8, 2018
On an average Sunday morning in 2004, a newspaper article caught my eye and immediately took me hurtling back to 1977 to events which had seemed so innocent at the time, but which turned out to be anything but.
My 13th year was one of the most eventful of my life, (and that's saying something) ......
I nearly died, my best friend nearly died, I became a man and........................I went to Switzerland!
The faint whistle of a kettle coming to the boil in the adjacent kitchen was the only sound penetrating the otherwise silent room, but the Sunday morning tranquility was shattered by the thundering in my head as I stared in disbelief at the page in front of me and the pages of my past were torn apart by the revelations it contained.
It was the main headline on page seven, normally a lucky number for me.
Since we’d been together most of our Sunday mornings had followed the ritual of waking up later than usual, especially after a night out, which to be honest happened most Saturday nights, grab a few kisses and cuddles, and eventually get out of bed at around eleven. Once up, we would usually spend an hour or two reading the papers, that we purchased from the local newsagent a stroll away on the corner of the road. We’d have breakfast and then wander along the waterside canal, pop into one of the many inviting pubs for a drink and maybe for a spot of lunch and sit outside if the weather was kind. The weather was kind today, but this particular Sunday turned out to be anything but kind, or usual.
Posted by David P Perlmutter