“Or my last memory of it. But then, most of my memories were that colour. It was early December and after pretending for a long time that it wasn’t going to happen, it was winter. Summer had been hot and long; Autumn had produced reds and golds the brightness of kids’ picture books. Just when everything had conspired to lull folk into a false sense of security—wham! The thing that annoyed me most was that I had been surprised. I shouldn’t have been. I’d been around long enough to know th...at life worked like that. Maybe I’d been around too long. Thirty-six years too long. No. It hadn’t all been like that. There was a time back there, somewhere. Four years less than four days. … Something cut in on my self-pity. Downstairs the phone was ringing. Another thing I should have known. No-one would call for days. Then when I took a bath there would be enough bells ringing to make me think I was the Hunchback of Notre Dame.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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