Before, during and after, part 1

Drowsing off then, saturday morning, hungover, some childhood memories slipped through the block. Normally I dont think abou my early childhood but from birth to about age 9, my life was good. Our house was clean. My dad mowed the lawns. He built a shed, a workshop to make wooden things. He made a small hut for us to play in as a den, with a bench round the edge. He built a butterfly tank for my brother, timber frames with glass panels, I don't think it worked really but it was an attempt to study them without killing them. I woke one night and came downstairs whilst everyone else slept my dad was in the kitchen working on a miniture staircase for a dolls house that would be my sisters birthday present. I felt let in to a secret and didn't spoil her surprise. I must have been about 6. Perhaps these happy times of security are why I do what I do for a living.