brighteyes

Miffy I remember my school being very grey for definite, and smelling of Parma Violets ' a kind of sweet you used to be able to get in packets for 15p. The walls were so thick you couldn't hear any cars going past whatsoever, which strikes me as odd, and it must have been a boarding school because I don't remember hardly anything about my mother or father. My class was tiny. In fact, I may even have had one-to-one tutoring. No, wait. There were at least two other kids. Boys. I remember talking to them. No, even that's wrong. What I do remember, and now very clearly, is when one of them left, and why. The teacher had gone out for a while and this boy had drawn a height chart on the wall with a pencil. The height order went: him (let's call him Danver), the other boy (for the purposes of the anecdote his name was Fembs), and the lowest pencil mark, which was me.

Pila It's raining again. It hasn't stopped since I got back from Farlan Street that day. As if I don't stay indoors enough, it seems the weather wants me out of trouble altogether. My shower this morning was the first in two weeks, and all the better as a result. Flushing the grease out of my hair and replacing it with jojoba and NutriVite molecules (so the bottle informed me) was another pleasure to add to the list. The list that is weakening significantly in effectiveness with each day that passes.