Читать книгу Coming Home For Christmas: Warm, humorous and completely irresistible! - Julia Williams - Страница 9

I don’t even know why I’m doing this. I’m not the sort to bare my soul. I’ve never ever written anything down about the way I feel. Except a letter to Pippa once, a long long time ago. This is just not me. But then I don’t know who me is anymore …

The old me was calm and patient, and easy going. The new me – is impatient, depressed and angry … So very angry at what’s happened to destroy my family, my life.

Which is why Jo said it might help to write stuff down.

(Jo’s my counsellor.) Christ. I can’t believe I wrote that. But then, I can’t believe I have a counsellor either.

Five minutes later

I keep sitting looking at the screen. What am I going to write? It’s not as if I have anything interesting to say. My life is pretty fucked up at present. That’s all I know.

I knew this wouldn’t help.

Half an hour later

I’ve had a cup of tea. Come back, sat here staring some more. I’d give up now, but Jo will want to know that I’ve written something down.

Where do I even begin?

Jo says, at the beginning … that sounds like some kind of lame story we had to write at school. I was never much good at that. I was never much good at anything apart from tending to animals, and ploughing the land. And now I’m not much good at that.

So … the beginning.

I used to be happy once. I had a family, a lovely wife, a farm we ran together. I didn’t know it then, but life was pretty damned perfect.

Then, two years ago, I had an horrific accident which caused me brain damage. And nothing’s been the same since …