to me t my neeeth.

    I remember t about a quarter to eig of bed and got into t in time to s t. It ly January morning, y yellotle square of baten yards by five of grass,   and a bare patc s, and same grass, beche middle.

    I rying to siser ran into t me out of tumbler of er on ttle seet belonged in t emporary set t arner, my dentist, o  go ter-coloured  my teet look my age, wy-five.

    Making a mental note to buy razor-blades, I got into tarted soaping. I soaped my arms (I’ve got t are freckled up to took t reac’s a nuisance, but ts of my body t I can’t reacrut I’m inclined to be a little bit on t side. I don’t mean t I’m like somet a fair. My one, and last time I measured round my  it y-eigy-nine, I forget ingly’ fat, I  got one of t sag o t’s merely t I’m a little bit broad in tendency to be barrel-sive, y kind of fat man, tic bouncing type t’s nicknamed Fatty or tubby and is aly? I’m t type. ‘Fatty’ tly call me. Fatty Bowling. George Bowling is my real name.

    But at t moment I didn’t feel like ty. And it struck me t no  eeter in tumbler, and t me like teet gives you a rotten feeling to , a sort of pincten into a sour apple. Besides, say eet natural tootime  an end. And I  as y-five. As I stood up to soap my crutc my figure. It’s all rot about fat men being unable to see t, but it’s a fact t  me again, unless so. Not t at t moment I particularly ed any o look t me.

    But it struck me t t to ter mood. to begin  oday. trict (I ougo tell you t I’m i