Trafika Europe 9/10 - UK in Europe

All the voices

It was this awareness of coming back which, strangely, was what had first of all attracted me to Craig. Craig my cousin, the one laughing that time the other side of the hedge. Craig and hedges. Well, I’ll tell you more at some point. Anyway Craig’s a big boy now. He’s twenty four; I’m twenty five. We were supposed to be friends, or enemies, at the very least to understand the same viewpoint; we weren’t supposed to be indifferent to one another. Trouble is we’ve always been coming from distinctly different mental places. The main difference is Craig’s involvement with things . I, on the other hand, can say with a hand on my heart, that I’ve never cared that much about things one way or the other. I could take

them or leave them.

Craig is all bound up with the taking of things. Which isn’t to say he’s a thief, although I don’t know about that for sure. It isn’t something Auntie E would have let on about. She was a close one when it suited her and Craig the apple of her old rheumy eyes. From this it should be apparent that she had never seen her son clearly – what mother does? But Craig wouldn’t have let on if he was a thief, either, would he. Anyway, what I mean by taking is that he liked to take things and then hide them whereas me, I only cared about hiding myself. And he liked to bring the things back again when you’d given up hope of ever seeing them again. That was what he was up to for most of his

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