I started cowering behind the front room door every time the postman came. Parcels were sent back. Letters unsigned for. I lay awake at night, every creak in the central heating an imaginary boot waiting to kick in my front door, every slowing car on my busy seafront road a group of henchmen, every flashing light an imaginary Police car for imaginary crimes. I have woken screaming, shuddering, sobbing, flailing, inexplicably distraught, thrashing, terrified, inconsolable. I have barely slept properly, alone, in over six months, and it is, as the song goes, time to say goodbye.
FFS, and Anne Frank thought she had good cause to be nervous…