Camp David
David Walliams
Language: English
Pages: 400
ISBN: 0241957729
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
the other way. We watched the back of his head disappear into the distance as Johnny Morris of Animal Magic fame wittered along wistfully on the audio commentary. ‘Hi Kenny!’ I shouted quietly as the monorail carriage turned a corner. He was now too far away to hear. We were crushed. These days when people approach me for an autograph or photograph I always oblige them, but as with my experience with Kenny Everett, I think meeting any famous person will always be a huge disappointment. Back
would be able to swim unaided. Fortunately for me, they were right. If I had to name the time in my life when I was happiest, I would say it was just before I was old enough to go to school. Mum would look after me at home. Just me and her. I was a complete mummy’s boy and still am. The two of us would sit and eat mince and mashed potatoes at lunchtime listening to the Jimmy Young show on Radio 2. Just hearing his voice takes me right back to those lunchtimes, just me and my mum. After my first
camouflage rucksack bought at the Royal Tournament. Then I wrote a short goodbye note to my family and slipped out the front door, not closing it behind me so as not to make a sound. I raced up to the woods and tried to find a bit that wasn’t muddy so I could sit down. There rather embarrassingly I bumped into my Cub Scout leader, who was out walking her dog. ‘Oh hello, Akela.’ ‘Hello, David.’ ‘In case you were wondering, I am just waiting for my mum and dad to pick me up. I told them that
tears all day. In the cab on the way over this morning I wanted to turn back, thinking I couldn’t face my family while I am in this state. When my mum sat next to me on the sofa to show me some photographs she had given Nanny of the family I could feel the tears welling up. I’m crying now. As quietly as I can. Because I can’t begin to tell my parents what’s wrong. Because everything is wrong. Monday 30/12/2002 4.30 a.m. was when I woke up this morning. Forty minutes later than yesterday. That
another day or another night. I am so sorry. David.’ I stared at the dark stained wood of the door as the belt tightened around my neck and my head started to buzz with pain. But I knew I didn’t really want to die, I just didn’t want to live. I took my weight again with my feet and sat down on the floor. Earlier I had come close to stepping in front of a train. I am in total despair. That night I realized I needed some serious help. Going to see a psychotherapist once or twice a week was not