What then stayed in my mind for the rest of the evening was not so much the information; frankly that had been anticipated. No. The thing which did haunt me was the tone in that young carer’s voice. Probably only about twenty-five years old, but with a voice now trying to conceal a combination of fear, and trying to keep calm. Much like one might imagine coming from someone inside a doomed airliner, unable to get out.
All text, pros, poetry & artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.
