My haunted house


No matter what crazy scheme I’ve set my heart on doing, my mam has 99 per cent of the time said one thing: “Eeeee, well, go do it. If it all goes wrong, you can always come back home.” (The one per cent was my New Romantic phase in my early teens, when I tried to go into town wearing Steve-Strange-meets-Dame Edna-Everage make-up, she told me that I couldn’t actually leave the house.)

But now that’s gone. I have no home any more.

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