It was a rainy Saturday afternoon one of several, typical in Northern England, even in summer. Any activities I had hoped to do had been rained on, quite literally by the disappointing , yet not entirely unexpected weather. Lying down peacefully listening to my playlist of indie music and watching the raindrops on the window, I was blissfully relaxed and uninterrupted, despite having four (adopted) sisters, who could by themselves create a racket capable of waking up most of the neighbourhood and in fact had done before.
My parents had taken them all for a day trip to IKEA. Me,being the oldest at 16 did not wish to share in the embarrassment of walking around with a large family who people turn their noses up at. As the song ended, I came to the realisation that I was peckish and hadn't eaten all day and made my way to check if there was anything worth eating in our freezer. After finding a mini microwavable pizza in the depths of the cold artic that was the freezer and putting it to cook in the microwave, I heard the sound of post hitting the floor.
I lazily padded to the front door and picked up the post and sorted to bills and bank statements addressed to my mum and dad, before reaching a letter addressed to me Miss P Taylor, watermarked with some kind of crest I had never seen before.
Never having actually received a letter that was addressed to me, I was naturally very curious as to what it was about, so I opened the the envelope and pulled out the letter.
