The smell of the strap

When I was six years old, my father left me and my mum to go off with another woman. I never saw him again after that. With finances extremely tight (mum was a housewife), it was arranged that we would go and live with her mother, my Nana.

Despite the initial upset, it was by and large a very happy part of my childhood. I adored my Nana and she spoiled me in the ways grandparents do. Perhaps a little too much, thinking back to the incident I am going to tell you about. It happened about a year later, so I’d be seven.

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