It’s early morning and I wake up. It’s still dark, inside and out.
“This is not my bed”, I think, a little confused. “What’s going on here?”
I struggle to my feet. Hands scrunched into two fists, I rub my eyes and look around.
I peer into the darkness to the bed beside mine. A strange unfamiliar grunt, night time sleepy noises. I see two big body shapes in the bed, I get scared and I start to cry.
My mother comes quickly to shut me up and take me out of the cot I am in and into the other room where herself, my father and my baby brother have slept in my single bed.
I later learn that the two shapes in my parent’s bed were two of my uncles (whom I’d never met), arrived late at night from New York for my grandfather’s funeral.
Halloween 1980, aged 19 months.
My earliest memory.