Gibbous Moon

I have led an interesting and happy life over the past sixty-odd years.
When I die, hopefully not just yet, I don’t want my memories and experiences to disappear with my mortal soul, wherever it may go, so I started writing them down for my children to endure at some later date.
At first it was just to capture a long-lost time of endless summer walks in the Yorkshire countryside but, as I focused more on the events in my early years, the memories came flooding back.
I wanted the tale to ring true to my experiences, so It is set in the place of my birth, Yorkshire, England, where my family have lived for many years and I grew up in a household just like the Bannerman's.
I remembered how, as a young teenager, my grandfather’s death had left an indelible scar on my being which still hurts to this day, but is mostly hidden away among the hurly burly of daily life.
I remembered my first loves and encounters with folk not from my usual cosseted environment.
And I remembered how it all seemed so normal then, not having experienced anything else in my young life.
It is only now, with the advantage of hindsight and many more years behind me, I realise what a magical and unique young life it was.
In this novel, I have used my experiences to fashion the story into, what I hope is, a believable tale.
None of the people in this story actually existed, but are a composite of the many wonderful, and not so wonderful,
folk I have met on my journey through life.
So, without further ado, on with the tale, and in the words of Mark Twain,
“Never let the truth get in the way of a good story.”