As a child, I was an amateur detective; a master of argument and the suspicious side-eye. The adult world seemed to be defined by determined, capable people making important decisions and I was desperate to be one of them. In short, I was precocious. And I’m sorry to everybody I came up against. Especially my uncle Dan.
Christmas 1989 was exciting for four-year-old me. I had visited the mall Santa a few weeks before and been crystal clear in my request for a magic tea set and world peace (see? Insufferable). Christmas Eve celebrations at my grandparents’ were an unbridled success. As the first grandchild, I reaped the benefits of generous aunties and uncles and I ate my weight in potatoes and sausages.
