Monday April 23rd, 1973 and it would appear to be a day of celebrations in my country of birth. Something called St. George’s day. I’m sure the meaning will become abundantly clear at a later stage in my life but at 23 days old, you tend to have more pressing issues to deal with.
I am in a place called Nutopia.
Apparently, the place does not exist.
This is the first of many disappointments.