Everyone was giving him a wide berth as he looked hammered. In east London, me and my girlfriend saw what we thought was someone who’d had a few too many, sitting by the road. That’s the stuff of childhood dreams.Ī stranger died in my arms three weeks ago. Or putting things in your supermarket trolley without asking permission. There’s a real feeling of adult achievement about choosing your own bedtime. I clearly haven’t done it here, which is a good sign. I prepare conversations in my head before a social interaction. I can’t be doing with them existing in the same universe as me. I’d listen to R&B Hits 2002 and enjoy having no idea what everyone I know is up to. Just to soak up the feeling of not knowing what social media is. If I could go back in time, I’d go to the early noughties. I’d let the rest of the world go without gherkins if it meant I could have them all. I’ll unveil them to myself again soon, it’ll be a nice reunion.īrined stuff is my guilty pleasure. I won three for Stath Lets Flats, but I put them away while I was writing the new series, so they didn’t stare at me and keep me up at night. Even if you know the answer’s going to be no. As a kid, you’re never more than five minutes away from asking if you can have some crisps. The noise of crisp-crunching, the oiliness of crisps, the smell of them. My dad’s responsible for the way I dress salad.Ĭrisps are the sensory soundtrack of childhood. My mum’s responsible for my capacity to love. My dad’s responsible for the way I dress salad My mum is responsible for my capacity to love.
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