Prisoners, Property And Prostitutes - Plot & Excerpts
A man had reached the end of his natural life, died in whatever circumstances and had felt no pain or suffering in the river. He was only late for his funeral, nothing more. I looked back over the past few years – I had come a long way from the middle-class, middle-England life I had enjoyed for the first two decades and more of my life. Three years earlier the only dead body I had had any association with was at the funeral of my school’s bursar, when at his funeral I had seen his coffin in church. I had found it discomforting that a dead body had been in the same building as me. A few short years later and I thought relatively little of manhandling corpses in all manner of situations. I was becoming a bit battle-hardened. Having said that, I still derived satisfaction from believing I was doing a useful job, such as I had altruistically wanted to do, although many of the things a career as a Policeman had required me to do were quite beyond anything I could even have imagined as a hopeful, job-seeking student.
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