It was an ordinary Wednesday morning when I woke up on 13 March, 1996. It was snowing and I shivered as I pulled on my red school uniform sweater.
We’d moved to Scotland three years earlier – my mum, my stepdad and my 11-year-old brother Joe. I loved my school. I was a happy-go-lucky kid and very settled.
Dunblane was a safe, close-knit community. Neighbours were friendly and Joe and I had the freedom to play in the park and walk to school by ourselves.
After we’d waved Mum goodbye at home, we walked the short distance to school and I remember seeing snowdrops poking through the snow.
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