Haunted

I've always been one to hold onto things, things that still embarrass me, even though they happened years ago, and are remembered by no-one other than me, things I wish I'd done differently, or not done at all, things I failed to do that I should have. Sometimes, though, things come to mind that genuinely haunt me. One such is the case of an Essex schoolboy who was raped and murdered by his next door neighbour, a friend of the family, more than thirty years ago. I would guess that the picture of the boy that appeared in the press at the time, a school photograph, a picture of a happy, smiling boy, so pretty, so young - he was a few days short of his tenth birthday when he was killed - finds its way to the forefront of my memory a couple of times a year, along with the heartrending words the boy supposedly said to his assailant, presumably from the man's confession. 'Please, Uncle Barney, please don't'. All I can hope is that if a boy ever says 'Please don't' to me, I won't. I just wish I could guarantee that I wouldn't.

Love & best wishes to all
 Sammy B