The Rachel Papers
Seven o' clock: Oxford

My name is Charles Highway, though you wouldn't think it to look at me. It's such a rangy, well-travelled, big-cocked name and, to look at, I am none of these. I wear glasses for a start, have done since I was nine. And my medium-length, arseless, waistless figure, corrugated ribcage and bandy legs gang up to dispel any hint of aplomb. (On no account, by the way, should this particular model be confused with the springy frames so popular with my contemporaries. They're quite different. I remember I used to have to fold the bands of my trousers almost double and bulk the sears with shirts intended for grown men. I dress more thoughtfully now, though, not so much with taste as with insight.)


THIS IS A WORK IN PROGRESS