It's not the leaving of Throckley that grieves me part #2

So anyway, my parents took me back to my new home in Throckley, which is quite a rural suburb of Newcastle, to the west of the city at the start of the sprawling wilds of Northumberland.

I can't tell you the first thing about living there because my mother left my father when I was 10 months old, and me, her and Wor Kid all moved to 46, Nuns Moor Road in Fenham, just outside the centre of the city.
Quite why my parents split up, I'm not 100% on. One of the things that put me off writing my life story for years is that I will have to talk to them about this stuff, and other wounds that will need to be picked.
Last time I asked my Mam, she said something along the lines of "Your father can't open his mouth without telling a lie, and I couldn't cope with it any more."
I put this to my Dad, and he said that that was pretty fair comment, really, so what does that tell you?
Much as I love my old man, he could never fucking keep it in his trousers back then, so you'd have to guess that another woman was involved.
So, aye, I will go and ask them to elaborate a bit. I'll just tell them it's for my blog, I'm sure they'll be sweet.