Midlands, and Leaving Them, The

‘We started a magazine, Ali and I, Ali another dissident who had refused to join the corps. We called it Grendel. A monster defeated by the first English epic hero could not be all bad. It wasn't utterly clear whether we were on the side of the defeated or the monsters. I suspect that Ali preferred the monsters.’
‘The last time I saw her she asked, “And where have you come from?” “Sydney,” I said. “Oh, really,” she said. “How interesting. I have a nephew in Sydney.” “That's me,” I said. “I am your nephew.” “Are you?” she said. “Do you know him?” ’
‘I suppose I should be thankful, or pleased, or at least have some feeling of satisfaction, that my school sent me on those social-realist cross-country runs. It provided a group of feelings and sense impressions that I might otherwise have managed to avoid. I’m sure it never meant to; never meant, that is, the social-realist aspect, let alone socialist-realist.
 ‘“O pastoral heart of England,” Quiller-Couch intoned. “The dead centre,” we intoned sardonically.’ 
‘She turned resolutely away and cracked eggs, and after a silent debate of conscience, left a splintered piece of eggshell in the pan.’ 
‘The man at the appointments board, just before I left, congratulated me. “Well, well,” he said,” you’re tipped for a first, you edited the university paper, you’ve done very well for an iron-moulder’s son.”’