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297 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2010
As we ate lunch I asked my husband, 'What would you like to do, short of putting your head in the gas oven?' He looked aggrieved at my flippancy, but wouldn't give any kind of answer.
I felt my stomach turn over. I've often noticed assistants coughing and sneezing into handkerchiefs, put them back into their pockets and reach for cakes, and felt that what I couldn't bake I'd do without. I was once told in Canteen I had a 'neurosis' -- he was a smarty college conchie and he was referring to my firm refusal to let the boys on 'lamp' or heavy oil fatigue take sandwiches or cake into their filthy hands. We wrapped a wee piece of paper on one side to hold them by. This morning I really felt sick, yet realised there were much more unhygienic tricks we never saw...
He has always had a curious way of hoarding up "slights" and "snubs", but since he has been ill it has grown worse. His mind acts like a stopped-up drain, slowly gathering odds and ends of tea leaves, and odd scraps of vegetables that putrefied slowly -- anything and everything that would tend to block a drain. Then when it's unstopped it's amazing what has gone to the accumulation! I know he hates me to talk to anyone unless he is there, but his rage took the form of "Fearing you will catch more cold -- you never think of the bother you give people" ... he raked up about me having been so lame and not able to go walking and he "Always had to trail about by himself if we went over Walney".