My name is Dale Cox, a simple yet complicated person who never appreciates anything quiet, but I have a great respect for humanity and wonder why wild animals cannot coexist harmoniously like we do here in France. I love the natural habitat and I wish people would only listen when I say that it’s uncouth to deplete the natural resources in the name of economic development.

I was born and brought up in southern France in the rural setting, with plenty of vineyards and really enjoyed the countryside life; me and my siblings would occasionally play a game of hide-and-seek deep inside the vineyards, almost forgetting to attend to our daily chores. A beating would follow, as my father would not take any excuse lying down. My mother was equally tough, but I had mastered her weaknesses and could start crying even before she picked up her cane. This tactic helped me quite a lot until one day when my big mouth shared it with my sister, whose hatred towards me being called mummy’s boy led her to unveil my secrets to the whole world during dinner.

Growing up, technology was not as advanced as it is today; I can’t say we were rich either, though I didn’t grow up in abject poverty. We could afford a decent meal and occasionally accompany Daddy to Paris, especially during the Christmas season for shopping. I cherished town life and the bus experience; I remember this one big bus, full to capacity, sitting on my dad’s lap heading to Paris, the driver whistling to Don Williams’ country music as he softly maneuvered a pot hole, engaging gears whilst catching an argument with my dad.