This Is Your Life Read Online Free PDF Page A

way.’
    â€˜What is?’
    â€˜The coast road though it adds on twenty minutes make sure you handwash that or you’ll ruin it . . .’ and while I was still trying to work out what it was we were talking about she had marched straight past me and begun tidying up.
    â€˜Ooh you’ve lit a real log fire, I do love a real log fire, they used to have one at the Rose and Crown but they’ve replaced it with one of those lookalike gas things with the special rocks that glow when they’re hot, volcanic lava the landlord said it was, that must be a dangerous job getting them out of the volcano, he’s gone and got himself one of those Thai wives, doesn’t speak a word of English but I suppose they must have a lot of sexual intercourse, the trouble is of course they do spit so terribly don’t they?’
    â€˜What, Thai wives?’
    â€˜No dear, real log fires. I’ll put the fireguard up then the house won’t burn down while we’re out. I checked for your sister-in-law they do a vegetarian option and a fish dish we had some lovely fish with the new couple who’ve moved in down the road, they’re Korean but very friendly, they’re away a lot so they’ve left me a key, lovely new fitted wardrobes with lights inside, I said I’d introduce them to the new Thai wife at the Rose and Crown because that’s quite near Korea isn’t it of course your father didn’t touch the fish because it wasn’t deep fried in batter where does this go?’
    Trying to talk to Mum was like playing tennis with someone who sent back seven different balls over the net at any one time. In the end you just took cover until the barrage was over. The subject of my job was briefly touched upon out of a sense of dutiful good manners. ‘And how is your
part-time
teaching job?’ she enquired as if she was asking the question, ‘And how is your homosexual Iraqi boyfriend?’ or ‘How are things in the world of pre-school heroin dealing?’
    â€˜Fine . . .’ I began, but this was a sufficiently comprehensive summary for her to feel that she could now move on to more pleasing subjects, such as my elder brother.
    â€˜We had Nicholas and Carol over last weekend, the children are so clever, apparently little Jasper is “almost gifted”, but it’s hard to know before they start nursery, your reports were always very good until you fell in with those working-class boys, the Strongs, dreadful family I found a box of them in the attic the other day all you and your brother’s old papers and postcard albums and everything. I gave them to Nicholas to sort out I’ll just wash up these few things yes Betty hello good dog.’
    â€˜Old Gareth Strong died of natural causes,’ added Dad. ‘It was in the local paper. I went through it twice but that’s all they said. “Natural causes”.’
    My heart sank at the prospect of my big brother Nicholas being in possession of my old school reports. I knew he’d read them and then be deliberately complimentary about how good they were. ‘You were quite a high-flyer at school.’ (Subtext: So what happened?) But I resolved not to feel oppressed by my family’s pervading sense of disappointment in me. I pictured the freshly printed screenplay, hiding like a winning lottery ticket in the top drawer of my desk, and wondered how they’d react this time next year when my birthday meal wasquickly grabbed between takes on the set of my first movie.
    The fact that my family was treating me meant that this was the one day of the year when I could choose somewhere special for us to go. So I had opted for the place I went all year round, namely the Red Lion, a pub in the town centre. It served reasonable food and we could have a beer beforehand and I could meet up with my friends later, so it was as good a place as any if you had to eat out in the sort of restaurants that