As a child living in Scotland my family was very poor, we lived as best we could on a diet consisting mainly of haggis. Haggis which we had to catch and kill ourselves or face the wrath of my tyranical father. Even at aged four my father would daily send me up into the hills with my two younger brothers haggis hunting. And if we didn't catch a big enough one? He would beat us to sleep that night with the intestines of the scrawny ones that we did catch. I suppose it was just his way of saying that he loved us, but a cuddle might have been nicer.
I think these experiences have inevitably coloured my entire life, for one thing, I can't stand haggis anymore, and I still flinch everytime I see a string of sausages. Which considering I work in a butchers makes my worklife a living hell.
Not that home is much better, my wife "Mamfa"... before I conitinue I must point out that Mamfa is a pet name, her real name is "Samantha", you see my wife has a cleft pallat and when I first asked her her name it sounded like she said "Mamfa" so it just kinda stuck.
Anyway "Mamfa" has recently left me for an orthadontist and her words just before she slammed that door behind her for the last time, well they still haunt me.
And for anyone out there that might be feeling a bit low, believe me you don't know the meaning of the word pain until you hear your wife of 16 years call you a " shushling ushleh shunt".
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