After a whole yay of Yayslayer, back to my wife, our two children, and our little house, in the Cotswolds. Our dog, Rex, and our big white fence. I work as a banker, she works as an accountant, and our children are top of their class. Our eldest, Guinevere, became a master of the boiled egg at two, and now at seven, she just wants to shake, rattle, and roll, though my wife and I are both foggy as to the details of this phase. Our youngest, Ferguson, has choked a couple of squirrels in the last month, but we have sent him to a therapist, so it should not really affect our lifestyle. When I am working at the bank I look wistfully out the window at the bridges of Canary Wharf because all I have ever wanted to be was a trapeze artist, and I think about jumping off. I have pale white skin that is translucent in the moonlight. I have cold blue eyes with which I look at the world with disdain and disgust. I was a child filled with joy only to become an adult filled with judgement, ignorance, and despair.