I was seven when my parents split up. If there’s one thing a child should be protected from, it’s their parents arguing – constantly. Parents are our last defence against the horrors of the adult world. When they fight and argue, the walls of protection start to crumble and reality starts to seep in. Childhood innocence ends too quickly.
With hindsight, it must have been really hard on them both, although my mum took it the worst. A few months before we had been living in Dubai. It was sunny all the time and I had a Princess in my class! I don’t mean that in a cheeky way; there was an actual Princess in my class. She had bodyguards and everything. When she had a birthday party, at the end of the day, everyone was given their own cake. Not a slice of cake. Their OWN cake. It was like something from the Disney Channel.
Unfortunately, due to my dad’s work, we had to move. From the golden sun-kissed city of Dubai, with it’s glittering palaces of Glass and Steel, our family unit upped and moved to..
A city which even the architect got so bored with, he forgot to colour it in. With the move, went my parents marriage. Their happiness went from rosy and sun-kissed to depressing and grey. In the middle, was me, dreaming of Sunny beaches and annoying princesses while I stared out of the rain streaked window at the granite delights of our new Home.