What better way to handle all my angst than to pour them into short stories.

Born in a commuter belt city called Reading, like many a middle or upper class child of such times, I was shunted off to an all-male boarding school aged eight, away from my parents for periods of up to twelve weeks at a time. In such an institutions, where I was to rest until my seventeenth year, there was no getting away from the cruel jibes hurled at me from taunting tormentors. My refuge was the arts room, where ...
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