The dark side was the side of my father i didn't know as it was a cunning way of abuse in a new way i had not yet met. Mental and selfish abuse, not physical as i had been used to, nothing in anger just planned and meticulous in its execution

I would now find out the smell my father used to come back to the caravan at night with. It was horse, yes the four legged kind, he kept one in an old deserted cottage further up the mountain in the forestry. The reason why, it was stolen and as again i would found out years later, so were most things. Yes i am not so proud to say that now I know my father was a thief, I didn’t then but no wonder he was awkward around people, in a small place like we where everybody knew you.

We would quite often go to grandma's to eat but at night time. Most of the time if we went out together it would be that time as well. I used to play a game with my father there where he would line up stools in various patterns and get me to crawl thru the legs of them and climb thru grandmothers small windows. Well yes a funny game but training for my role in my fathers night time activity's of the great sport of burglary. Yes a regular bill Sykes he turned out to be putting me thru small places and openings so i could open windows and doors. It again was a game to me at that age and the reward would be a pocket of coppers or a late night under the snooker table in some pub, while he played on the table and had his beer. I am glad to say that i didn't take his apprenticeship up in later life. I am not sure how long this went on for as the whole period i spent with my father was about 6- 9 months in length, the two week holiday that I was supposed to be on in the beginning with him was a distance memory by now. Although he never hit me or even if i can recall shouted at me, he had another way of getting his twisted kicks. He would often drop you outside of the forest and let you walk up the mountain path on your own and wait in the trees somewhere to jump out and scare you or tell you to cut through the village graveyard on the way back from grandmothers so he could do the same there. The worst was being asked to go and feed the horse. On a moon lit night the moon would make the trees have horrible shapes and faces and the sounds of animals and the wind really did scare the shit out of me and of course you were always waiting for him too. I guess that was his way of having fun, but not very nice for two young boys to have to run in fear waiting for it to happen. So those times stick with me as the dark side of the man.