My merciless mind goes traipsing through my time bank of bad memories. Other people's bad management, misuses from my past . Coming from nowhere. Coming from everywhere. The memories just keep on coming . My brothers . My mother . My father . And my sister. Not a nice memory . Not a nice word form me. Egregious individuals. And a devastating pack .
Three letters came one school morning. I was six and my brothers a little older The postman posted three brown envelopes All a little weighty . With a little bit of money . We all three got a sixpence. We all three got a letter. So unexpected. A complete surprise! The excitement of a letter. The two older boys got theirs from God . They were good boys . Mine came from the devil . I was a bad boy . I was a humphy backit wee nyaff . In writing . From the devil .
But thought I was a lovely boy . Big brown eyes brown hair and dimples . I never felt bad . I never sought danger or conflict. But I was . In the middle of a battlefield. Theirs .
You are a bad boy . I am a good boy . You are being a sook . I am being a good boy . You always want attention. I am an ill boy. You always show us up . I am a funny boy . You are stupid and lazy . You are trying to break this boy .
There I was as their swords flew and I battled their rages. In my armour. Made from my grandmothers soft wool jumper .
So soft and gentle and protective . She let me choose the soft lambs wool. It wasn't jaggy . It didn't irritate. It wasn’t abrasive. And she made up the cost . With every stitch . She stitched with love . With love for me . Her boy!
The battle rages on inside . The shell shocked boy now a man . Still wrapped in the warmth of his gran. And her protective lambs wool jumper.