But At The Best Of Times She

Oh You Know Me. I Have No Emotions. I'm A Robot. Or A Nun. A Robot Nun.

For His Thirtieth Birthday He Had Filled A Whole Night-club Off Regent Street; People Had Been Queuing On The Pavement To Get In. The Sim Card Of His Mobile Phone In His Pocket Was Overflowing With Telephone Numbers Of All The Hundreds Of People He Had Met In The Last Ten Years, And Yet The Only Person He Had Ever Wanted To Talk To In All That Time Was Standing Now In The Very Next Room.

Letters, Like Compilation Tapes, Were Really Vehicles For Unexpressed Emotions And She Was Clearly Putting Far Too Much Time And Energy Into Them.

Who Do You Think You Are, Jane Eyre? Grow Up. Be Sensible. Don't Get Carried Away.

…she Was Discovering Once Again That Reading And Writing Were Not The Same — You Couldn't Just Soak It Up Then Squeeze It Out Again.