Prologue - A Brief Family History.

1963. My father is born, and is named Julian Griffiths. He is raised in what was to become my home, a farm. He is raised by my grandparents, and lives a happy life. He takes over the farm from my grandfather when he is old enough to, and works hard for what little money the farm produces.

One day, when my grandfather was hauling livestock around for another farmer in the area, he suffered a heart attack and died. My father was devastated, as he was very close to my grandfather. He and his two brothers got together to decide who would keep the family business going, and it was decided that he would. So from that day to this he has been working the farm, getting as much money as he can, and "livin' offa fatta the land", as Lennie would say.

1964. My mother is born, and she is named Sandra Percey. She is raised in a house about 10 miles from the farm, called Ford House. I know very little about her childhood, so we'll leave it at that.

When she's about 19, she begins to work at a local hotel, serving food for people who want to pretend as if they're high-class, when in fact they are little better than working class snobs. However, my mother is 19, and doesn't realise this for many years, so she serves the "elite" of the working class for many years. Eventually she quits, and begins work at a local school serving dinners. She does this for another few years (less time than she spent in the hotel) before she leaves and works in my local pub as a barmaid and cook.

1982. My mother and father meet in a group called the Young Farmers Club (YFC). It's a club for farmers and they do stuff like bowling, swimming etc. And they enter competitions against other factions of YFC around the country. One year they had a rock and roll dance competition, and my mother and father were paired together. They ended up winning the whole competition. Anyway, they fall in love and get married in 1986.

1988. Two years of marries life later, my mother becomes pregnant with me. I am born, and named Anthony.

1990. Another two years later, and my sister, Kimberley is born.

My childhood was largely a happy one. I had no complaints, and I idolised my parents. They seemed to be in love, and I thought neither of them would ever hurt me. As the years passed though, cracks began to form in the marriage. Eventually, conversations became strained farces as to not show the troubles that lay barely hidden beneath the suface. But that was all about to change.

It's the present day. What I'm about to recount is a more extensive history of the last six months or so. And how I've had to deal with it alone. Things ain't gonna be pretty, but read on if you have the stomach. See you on the other side...