to me t my h.

        I remember t about a quarter to eig of bed and got into t in time to s t. It ly January m, y yellotle square of baten yards by five of grass,     and a bare patc s, and same grass, beche middle.

        I rying to siser ran into t me out of tumbler of er on ttle seet belonged in t emporary set t arner, my dentist, o    go ter-coloured    my teet look my age, wy-five.

        Making a mental o buy razor-blades, I got into tarted soaping. I soaped my arms (I’ve got t are freckled up to took t reac’s a nuisance, but ts of my body t I ’t reacrut I’m ined to be a little bit on t side. I don’t mean t I’m like somet a fair. My one, and last time I measured round my    it y-eigy-nine, I fet ingly’ fat, I    got one of t sag o t’s merely t I’m a little bit broad in tendency to be barrel-sive, y kind of fat man, tic boung type t’s niamed Fatty or tubby and is aly? I’m t type. ‘Fatty’ tly call me. Fatty Bowling. Gee Bowling is my real name.

        But at t moment I didn’t feel like ty. And it struck me t er in tumbler, and t me like teet gives you a rotten feeling to , a sort of pin into a sour apple. Besides, say eet natural tootime    an end. And I    as y-five. As I stood up to soap my crutc my figure. It’s all rot about fat men being uo see t, but it’s a fact t    me again, unless so. Not t at t moment I particularly ed any o look t me.

        But it struck me t t to ter mood. to begin    oday. trict (I ougo tell you t I’m in t to look in at to drop some papers, I aking to go aceet    of my mind for some time past. t I een quid    is. It    rology applied to    it’s all a question of influence of ts osider, but    seemed    ts t o be in t. Mellors, rology business, ting several quid on t doo do to s en bob, t bet as a general rule. Sure enoug t odds, but my s at seventeen quid. By a kind of instinct—rating anot quietly put to anybody. I’d never done anyt it on a dress for ’s my s for t I’d been a good een years and I o get fed up .

        After I’d soaped myself all over I felt better and lay doo t my seventeen quid and o spend it oives, it seemed to me,    quietly aurned on some more    er a lead to t    mug. tic stamping outside and then a yell of agony.

        ‘Dadda! I wanna e in!’

        ‘ell, you ’t. Clear out!’

        ‘But dadda! I wanna go somewhere!’

        ‘Go somew. I’m h.’

        ‘Dad-DA! I wanna GO SOME—hERE!’

        No use! I kne    partially dry as quickly as I could. As I opele Billy—my you, aged seven—s past me, dodging t     I discovered t my neck ill soapy.

        It’s a rotten to    gives you a disgusting sticky feeling, and t,    aicky for t of t doairs in a bad temper and ready to make myself disagreeable.

        Our dining-room, like ttle place, fourtee by t’s ten, and ty deters and tand t , doesn’t leave muceapot, in ate of alarm and dismay because t tter    lig it ly cold. I bent do a matco t to tle sidelong gla sravagant.

        y-nine, and    s very tual brooding,    a trick of , like an old gypsy    of foreseeing disasters. Only petty disasters, of course. As for ions, stention to tter is going up, and ts are , and talment due on t’s any. Ss e pleasure out of rog o and fro , and glooming at me, ‘But, Gee, it’s very SERIOUS! I don’t knoo DO! I don’t knoo realize    IS!’ and so on and so fort’s fixed firmly in     to t mind it a quarter as muc sy.

        tairs already,    ligo keep anyone else out of t to t table t o tune of ‘Yes, you did!’ ‘No, I didn’t!’ ‘Yes, you did!’ ‘No, I didn’t!’ and looked like going on for t of til I told to c. t’s a peculiar feeling t I o deal of time I    ick t of tion, it’s just unbearable. t t dreary bread-and-butter age op marks in Frenes, especially    feeling. Sometimes I’ve stood over ts, on summer evenings ’s give feeling you read about in t says your bo sucimes I feel t I’m just a kind of dried-up seed-pod t doesn’t matter t my sole importance    tures into t t’s only at moments. Most of time my separate existence looks pretty important to me, I feel t t and plenty of good times aion of myself as a kind of tame dairy-co of o c appeal to me.

        e didn’t talk muc breakfast.    knoo DO!’ mood, partly oo tter and partly because tmas ill five pounds o term. I ate my boiled egg and spread a piece of bread    in buying tuff. It’s fivepence-ells you, in t print t it tains ‘a certain proportion of ral fruit-juice’. tarted me off, in tating alking about ral fruit-trees,    tries til finally    angry. It’s not t s’s only t in some obscure o make jokes about anything you save money on.

        I    t t mug-room, and King Zog’s    about ten o’clock, ratended, I started out for too play in t ly raepped out of t door a nasty little gust of    fit and t I icky all over.
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