Lost and Found
My earliest memory is of being lost. We were on a family holiday somewhere in Devon, enjoying one of the long sandy stretches of paradise that populate the coastline in that part of the country. I’m not sure how old I was. A toddler still, but old enough to be left in the not-so-watchful care of my two rangy siblings whose attention, perhaps inevitably, was drawn away at the rockpools, the shrimps and catfish darting in the clear waters proving way more interesting than a chubby pre-schooler who couldn’t keep up.
