This is a section of my autobiography. The way I mixed present and past, and my reality and dream world was a new concept for me.

I stood up against the door, talking to a doctor I liked to flirt with. I was Nurse Bray, and had been pushing around patients in their beds all afternoon, I would take them from one end of the hospital, which was by the park bench, to the other, which was by the door. I was exhausted, but happy.

Three loud whistles interrupted my conversation, and I was brought back to the sad reality that it was the end of lunch, and the end of another shift. I shuffled to the assembly line, people ran past me, everything was a race. They were red faced and dirty, arguing which each other who was the fastest runner, who had held a handstand the longest, and who had been stuck in the mud the whole hour. I picked up the pace a little, I didn’t want to be stared at for being last.

My head is full of ideas for what I will be tomorrow; maybe a teacher, that was a favourite. I was a nice young teacher, and taught the slower ones in the class how to make fuzz buzzes, and rhymes to spell out long words. I do this outside Miss Clark’s room, she has loads of colourful posters on her walls, and it gives me great inspiration for my class. My heart never felt more at peace then when I said “Matthew Hanson, sit down.” I controlled everyone here. Recently however, my spot had been taken over by year 6 girls who take it in turns to jump on numbers on the floor. Hopscotch is far too boring and sociable for me.

Maybe tomorrow I will just try and make myself disappear, I achieved this at the moment by extended toilet trips, and sitting under the sports ramp on the green. If somebody was looking for me in the playground, they would have a have a hard
time. Not that I am ever looked for.

My only claim to an identity here was through my twin brother, Thomas. He was fast and disobedient, this made him cool. By rights I stood to have a 10% share in his popularity; as we arrived and left together, it meant we were seen together. But I rejected this percentage by being attentive to my patients and pupils. My 10% went to our cousin Nicola in the end, as she enjoyed boys and Netball.

For being a loner with a cool brother, I was not bullied, but ignored, and in some respects it felt worse.

Miss Laity came out to collect my class, Victoria Crump was sitting in front of me. She had nits, I could see them crawling in the partings of her blonde pigtails. I wanted to get closer, and take a better look at these creatures, their little bodies were scuttling so fast, wriggling up and down her shiny hair. A part of me wanted to reach out and pluck one from her head, but after I’d done it I wouldn’t know what to do. Vicky would be screaming at me, I would be stared at, and probably beetroot-faced, which was an all time fear of mine. Besides, I don’t really want a nit, I see them as bogeys; disgusting if not your own.