It Happened to Me…
Premature arrival
t was Autumn 1986. I was in my mid-20s, late to leave the nest, living with my widowed father until I was in my mid-30s. We were more like flat-mates than father and son. My elder brother Paul, meanwhile, had flown the nest back in 1980 when he married Sara, a girl he’d met at work (all names have been changed). Sara’s family was originally from Jamaica – so it was, in those days, what was termed a “mixed marriage”. They’d had their first baby, Jamie, in the summer
