A rebel without a clue.

Born to two working class parents from Rawmarsh, Rotherham, South Yorkshire in Bishops Stortford on the second of February 1972. My father was a company chauffeur and my mother a housewife and dental technician. I remember nothing of my first two years in Saffron Walden. We moved to Easington, near Whitby where my father bought his own fish and chip shop and my mother had my sister. We had a dog called Sam. He got run over. I played behind the garage, pebble dashed prefab, and got ill. This might have been a first migraine or a fuller episode of the sensor and visual disturbance I used to have regularly. I remember being sick. I didn't eat any dirt, but I did dig deep. My father built a bed with planks, we had bunks in my room. Bright blue curtains. I used to put turquoise felt from a blanket up my nose. our toilet was near the front of the house on the ground floor.I used to think the rust on the screws holding the wooden seat was dried on excrement. I had a teddy bear that had a...

What a messy day sunday was: all day in bed. I didn't feel quite normal until 3ish and only left the house at 3:30. Water, cider, water, cider, cider. Chelsea poor, season done and dusted. Home at 8pm for a slap-up dairylea and ham warburton-a-thon. Guess who is there: Snoops. A whole day early, nice. Feel happy with a few chance encounters this weekend that make me feel a little less abandoned entirely. On Sunday I was most impressed with C. Such a fruity and lusty thing. A plaything with pendulous breasts with a deep inviting cleft between and a right curvaceous body and a nose twinkling with delight. Hair off red turning violet or deeper crimson. Just loves to tell stories in a giddy prose. Lucy Saturday: short platinum blonde with full pouting lips and wonderful hips. I catch a glimpse of laced white bra and the swell of her charms. My eyes linger. She has bright blue eyes that sparkle in the afternoon light. She is a prize. I forgot my bank card so 1 pint then back for a r...