By the time I finished it was almost eleven.When I finished, Mrs. Martin was waiting at the back door. She opened it and invited me into the kitchen. ... was surprised to see that she had fixed me a lunch. I had no idea why she was being nice to me, but I was kind of hungry. She cleaned up the kitchen while I sat at the kitchen table, eating the bologna sandwich and chips she had fixed for me. She was wearing shorts and an oversized T-shirt, and with her blonde hair in a ponytail could almost. So. I’m now thirty-five years old. I live in Chelmsford with my daughter. I own and run a bespoke engineering business which has done remarkably well in recent times, so I’m actually pretty well-off these days. I’m English. White. Nearly, but not quite, six feet tall. Eleven and a half stone. Blue eyes. Brown hair, and plenty of it, not even a hint of MPB yet. I’m blessed with a pretty-decent masculine body, I eat well, keep myself fit and stay in trim. This time last year I wouldn’t have said. More

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