I was brought up in a household that held Victorian morals and attitudes in high regard. We trouped off to church in a small gaggle of high minded virtue, every Sunday and my sisters and I attended Sunday school on a regular basis. You would imagine I had a firm grasp on what was right and wrong; good and bad but you would be mistaken. As a child, I knew being wrong or bad was all about punishment. If I got caught doing one of the things deemed naughty by my parents, I was beaten or thrashed, depending on which parent was doling out the sentence. I became a furtive, secretive child with a burning core of rage. As I passed through childhood, I became clearer in my mind about the moral fibre I was so sadly lacking in; I knew I was a "bad" person. Once I had married and started my family, I tried to raise my sons with a good grounding in Christian values. One of my sons even sang in the church choir but I still knew, in my heart, I was not a good person. After twelve years, my marriage ended and I gave full expression to the immoral heart of me. It was only working in a home for the elderly that pulled me up short. I could see the vulnerability of these people who were nearing the end of their time on this planet. I became their champion, their friend and nurse. Finally, I understood what I must do in order to redeem myself. I became a "bad" person, striving to do good. Since then I have been the voice of the underdog; the broody hen of lost causes, if you like. I have stopped fights on the tube train, tongue lashed vandals into apologising and fronted bullies in the work place. So this leaves me with this burning question; is it better to be a "good" person, yet do nothing constructive to enforce that goodness, or a "bad" person, who tries very hard to do good things? I still live with a moral quagmire at my centre but I feel better about myself, regardless.