TheideareallycametomethedayIgotmynewfalseteeth.

    Irememberthemwell.AtaboutaquartertoeightI’dofbedandgotintothebathroomjustioshutthekidsout.ItwasabeastlyJanuarym,withadirtyyellowish-greysky.Downbelow,outofthelittlesquareofbathroomwindow,Icouldseethetenyardsbyfiveofgrass,rivethedgerounditandabarepatthemiddle,thatwecallthebackgarden.There’sthesamebackgarden,someprivets,andsamegrass,behindeveryhouseinEllesmereRoad.Onlydifference—wheretherearenokidsthere’snobarepatthemiddle.

    Iwastryingtoshavewithabluntishrazor-bladewhilethewaterranintothebath.Myfacelookedbackatmeoutofthemirror,andunderh,inatumblerofwateroleshelfoverthewashbasihthatbeloheface.ItwasthetemporarysetthatWarner,mydentist,hadgiveowearwhilethenewoneswerebeingmade.Ihaven’tsuchabadface,really.It’sohosebricky-redfacesthatgowithbutter-colouredhairandpale-blueeyes.I’venevergonegreyorbald,thankGod,andwhemyteethinIprobablydon’tlookmyage,whichisforty-five.

    Makialobuyrazor-blades,Igotintothebathandstartedsoaping.Isoapedmyarms(I’vegotthosekindofpudgyarmsthatarefreckleduptotheelbow)aooktheback-brushandsoapedmyshoulder-blades,whitheordinarywayI’treach.It’sanuisathereareseveralpartsofmybodythatI’treaowadays.ThetruthisthatI’minedtobealittlebitoside.IdohatI’mlikesomethinginasideshowatafair.Myweightisn’tmuchoverfourteenstone,andlasttimeImeasuredroundmywaistitwaseitherforty-eightorforty-nine,IfetwhidI’mnotwhattheycall‘disgustingly’fat,Ihaven’tgotohosebelliesthatsaghalf-waydowntothek’smerelythatI’malittlebitbroadint