I wore a yellow corduroy suit with red rain boots, really modern ones sent over from the continent by my grandmother, the shiny rubber reflected the sky and there was a piece of fake leather sewn on the top, from it dangled a shoelace. I could tie it in a bow if I wanted to; but, I liked it swinging about my legs freely as I walked. I knew that I stood out in those fashionable clothes; the other children wore brown and black. My mother said that the Seventies hadn’t started here yet.
There was an older boy in my class who was about sixteen. Everybody called him Frank, and at first I thought that that was his real name. Only much later I found out that it was short for Frankenstein. Children said he was behind, called him ‘retarded’. They told me that when Frank was six he was knocked down on the road. After that his body still grew but his mind didn’t. We were both tall, but as far as I was concerned the comparison stopped there. I didn’t want to be tall like him but most of all I didn’t want to be taller than the other normal children. Continue reading