its 1995 and was a miserable day on Craggy island. The rain pelted against the windows and some hail stones could be heard bouncing off the frame. You had been sent to stay with three priests over the summer as your parents were away. One of those priests was your uncle Ted. He wasn’t very old but had grey hair. He was in his mid fourties. Then you had father Dougal McGuire who was about 28 but had the mind of a ten year old. And lastly there was father jack hacket, who was the oldest of the lot and was never sober and also blind in one eye and could only say four words. Those being ‘feck’ ‘arse’ ‘drink’ and ‘girls!’. It was pretty awkward and you were a very a quiet person. You had just woken up on your 17th birthday and stretched out in the bed. You stood up and walked out of the guest room, still in your pyjamas as you made your way down the stairs to see a nice little bouquet of flowers on the table with a cup of tea (made by the kind house keeper, Mrs Doyle.)