Low Life
20 June 2009
I want to be alone
After a fish and chip lunch (I ate fish and chips six times in three days) I returned to my room. I showered and redressed the burn on my arm. The nurse had given me a pair of disposable NHS scissors to help with the job. When I’d finished I decided to cut my toe nails with these scissors. I lay on my back and pulled my foot as near to my face as I could. And with my first snip I missed the nail and cut a slit in one of my toes. Blood everywhere: on the bed, pillows, wall, carpet, even on the TV screen where I’d supported myself before hopping back to the shower room.
In the afternoon I limped the mile and a half I used to walk every day to primary school. I tried to imagine I was looking out at the passing scene through my childish eyes, but the appalling amount of traffic flying past in both directions made such a delicate experiment impossible. Here it occurred to me that leaving that child in the past was something I was going to have to accomplish sooner or later. Perhaps my reluctance to do this was at the heart of all this criticism.
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