ABSTRACT
It wasn’t a bad life, really, those early years in Holyhead. We weren’t well off, but within the limits of the family budget I managed to get some early glimpses of the artistic worlds of film, music, literature, and theatre. Outside, and there was another world, one you could have for nothing – beaches, blackberrying, exploring, rock climbing . . . Who would ever wish to leave it? How could anything ever disturb it? The questions aren’t rhetorical. I didn’t. And something could. Another black-lettered word beginning with D.
