Strange, I thought, how you can be living your dreams and your nightmares at the very same time.
Millard! Who’s the prime minister?Winston Churchill, he said. Have you gone daft?What’s the capital of Burma?Lord, I’ve no idea. Rangoon?Good! When’s your birthday?Will you quit shouting and let me bleed in peace!
If I never went home, what exactly would I be missing? I pictured my cold cavernous house, my friendless town full of bad memories, the utterly unremarkable life that had been mapped out for me. It had never once occurred to me, I realized, to refuse it.