“When he has time to reflect, which is all the time he has, Christopher has contemplated the aggregate weight of his parts, and concluded that he is mediaeval. In that blissful moment, when the return to consciousness is unforced, Christopher is now obliged to take stock. He knows who he is but mentally reconnoitres to establish where he is. This is a relatively recent phenomenon. Thousands of previous mornings didn’t require orientation. Age has cast him frivolously adrift, a trailing fair-grou...nd balloon grasped too late. He notes, with renewed surprise, that he has slept only on his allotted side, despite having the mattress to himself. Solitude has not yet accustomed him to the expanse. With an automatic gesture he retrieves his bedside glasses and the room swims into milky focus. He imagines himself on the other side of the gauze curtains, suspended above the dewy lawn, ascending like the truant balloon. And in that retreat the context of his diminishing world would be revealed, like a child entering his address in an exercise book: suburban street, near London, England, Britain, the World, the Solar System, the Milky Way, the Universe.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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