Because of their work, the people I worked for were obsessed with food – the small office was always full of biscuits and cakes and chocolate, and woe betide you if you didn’t each all your lunch (“You haven’t eaten that? Why not? Aren’t you hungry? Why aren’t you hungry?”). I was nervous, I was shy, I sat there reading newspapers all day, and I went out for cigarette breaks.
Standing outside the building, I witnessed things I never wish to witness again. Finally, after four days, I decided I couldn’t take it any more. I stubbed out my cigarette and went back to the office. It was empty, so I quickly scribbled a note saying one of my sons was ill and I had to rush home, and high tailed it out of that place as fast as my motorbike would take me. I didn’t go back.
