My father was a violent drunk. He went to jail when I was eleven came out when I was sixteen. We fought until I was eighteen. I joined the British Army to avoid killing the bugger.
I took to soldiering pretty well. Two small wars and a peacekeeping stint later I left after twelve years. I had two kids by then and wanted to see them grow up. I was sick of violence anyway.
I have always loved reading and wrote to get things out of my system. PTSD was not recognised in those days. Writing helped greatly especially humour. Turning things into a joke and/or seeing the funny sid more...
