One year on and it still makes my stomach turn
As I trudge up the stairs to go to the loo I look out my landing window as I often do. Looking across to the high rise flats and Colin Mountain is often hypnotic to me as it conjures memories of travels and coming home from some far off land. ‘Holy Fuck!!! That’s flames coming out of Coolmoyne House. Fuck!!!! My Dad!” I don’t think my feet actually touched a step as raced to the living room to phone my Dad.
Due to his diabetes my Dad has a sleep in the afternoon and sometimes he does not week until early evening. The answer machine clicks on and I calmly tell him “there’s a fire in the flats. If you get this leave immediately. I’m on my way over now.” As I briskly walk toward the flats I count the floors. From the ninth floor up it ‘looks like’ the…
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