about me
Abandoned at birth and raised by a herd of hardwick sheep, my early years held a great deal of angst for me - questions whirled around my little mind - questions like 'who am I?' 'what is my purpose in life?' and 'when will I be blessed with a fine pair of horns and flowing curly fleece?'.
Tragedy struck in my tenth year. The few of my herd that had not succumbed to old age, harsh winters and the scrapie epedemic of '85 perished on mass when a freak gust of wind picked them up from the rolling pasture of Great Langdale. All would have been fine but for their trajectory passing through the blades of a passing helicopter. Scientist friends have since told me that but for my silky smooth manskin I too would have been picked up and made one with my herd in that furry crimson snowstorm.
My time since then has been spent rambling in the hills of cumbria searching for clues. Clues about who I am, who my birth parents are, and how I ended
up living my early years amongst those majestic wooly heroes.
