A is for adventure

The first house isn't really the first but it may as well be because I don't remember much about the real first house.  I knew for a long time there was something wrong with my family.  I never - not for a moment thought that it was me, you know, my fault that things weren't quite right. I could say it was reading the Midwich Cuckoos or Marilynn Duff down the road (who told me all about babies and what you had to doto get them) or the fact the the Williams kids were badly brought up - compared to me that was, who was obviously from a much classier background. I digress.  The adventure really began in Wavertree playground which was actually called the "Mystery" as there were rumours of murder, in fighting and debts that lingered over the place like a black cloud of intrigue.  We met there and escaped prying eye's of parents and hung about doing nothing and talking about all the things we daren't mention elsewhere. I passed that park a few months back and I thought of all the adventures or escapes of over fourty years ago and reckoned I had done OK.  I escaped my roots but my lineage still haunts me.