
I was born in early morning, during the season when the sun still burned shadows in the hot grass.
My only real memory is that of sitting in the front seat, looking over and watching her shift to second gear. I was too young to have been there really, because she was gone by the New Year, after I turned three.
Funny how memory is.
When I ’m not thank’d at all, I ’m thank’d enough;
I ’ve done my duty, and I ’ve done no more.
— Henry Fielding, Tom Thumb the Great. Act i. Sc. 3.
















