Today being Too Much to Declare's fourth anniversary I thought I would republish a post from the very beginning... but instead I have found this post, the first of several tagged "cupboard" from April 2006. It was a Sunday, I remember, the first day I got a real kick out of blogging.

•I was born screaming - or so my mother tells me. The Second World War was going on around me, bombs falling nearby throughout my mum's pregnancy. And her marriage to my dad was, by all accounts, not a happy affair. Perhaps I had reason to scream - like millions of other babies scream, without been marked out for life.

However, my mother was - terrified? Certainly she has never stopped reminding me how noisy I was. My Original Sin, perhaps, though she wasn't yet a Catholic. (That's another story. And my father's story, too... All in good time...patience, patience). I was a lovely, healthy child, but prone to tantrums.

Dad's reaction (apparently) was to find out why I was upset. (I doubt if I could tell him: the no-shouting, oh-so-polite hatred beyween you and mum - kids can pick up the atmosphere, without 'understanding') My mother had a different approach - send Alec to his room until he Cheered Up. She tells me I used to come downstairs an hour later and declare 'The sun's come out.' How sweet, how sweet!

I have no evidence to believe she ever locked me in a cupboard - just sent to my bedroom, without a lock. But ever since, subjectively, i felt this was exactly what happened.

Hide you love away... Hide my dreams, my dark thoughts, my rage.

She always wanted to know everything about me, but I felt she understood nothing. When I was a teenager, she came into my room, over to my desk, while I was writing, and when I covered it up made a mocking expression - mouth open, finger pointing to her upper teeth. She was always calling me a Naughty Boy for being a rebel. Still does now, occasionally, though I do I best to tell her nothing about myself. Still in the cupboard, see?