And What He Meant Was That Maths

I Think People Believe In Heaven Because They Don't Like The Idea Of Dying, Because They Want To Carry On Living And They Don't Like The Idea That Other People Will Move Into Their House And Put Their Things Into The Rubbish.

At 20, 25, 30, We Begin To Realise That The Possibilities Of Escape Are Getting Fewer. We Have Jobs, Children, Partners, Debts. This Is The Part Of Us To Which Literary Fiction Speaks.

But I Don't Feel Sad About It. Because Mother Is Dead. And Because Mr. Shears Isn't Around Anymore. So I Would Be Feeling Sad About Something That Isn't Real And Doesn't Exist. And That Would Be Stupid.

As A Teenager, I Was Always This Strange Mixture Of Kind Of Vice-captain Of The Rugby Team And Sensitive Artist Type The Rest Of The Time. I Was Sent Away To This Public School In The Middle Of Nowhere, And I Think We Managed To Completely Miss Out On Normal Youth Culture.

Usually People Look At You When They're Talking To You. I Know That They're Working Out What I'm Thinking, But I Can't Tell What They're Thinking. It Is Like Being In A Room With A One-way Mirror In A Spy Film.