One of my first memories was crawling across the quarry tile floor under the Belfast sink in the kitchen of my childhood home at 13 Kimberley Road Leicester to get to the dog’s bowl and eat his biscuits – particularly the black ones.
Nothing unusual about children doing strange things you might say. They put all manner of objects in their mouths. While undoubtedly true, I have to admit to something rather more serious. I still eat dog biscuits.
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