So I decided to write a book… not for favour or for any other reason but to try to bring some understanding to how we become who we become. When I went to prison for life in 1984 I had no ambitions or aspirations – no notions of ‘rehabilitation’ or redemption. I was at the bottom of the deepest hole with no desire to try and climb out. I was finished and I was glad my disaster of a life was over. I never dreamed I would live again, let alone become a writer for a national newspaper or a writer of books. But the journey of life has a way of taking you on the most unexpected twists and turns. For the sake of the people who suffered because of me I wish I could go back and change things. I can’t. None of us can. And I wish I could say that writing this book has brought me some peace. It hasn’t.