Synopses & Reviews
Coming Up For Air, by George Orwell - Akasha Classics, AkashaPublishing.Com - The idea really came to me the day I got my new false teeth. I remember the morning well. At about a quarter to eight Id nipped out of bed and got into the bathroom just in time to shut the kids out. It was a beastly January morning, with a dirty yellowish-grey sky. Down below, out of the little square of bathroom window, I could see the ten yards by five of grass, with a privet hedge round it and a bare patch in the middle, that we call the back garden. Theres the same back garden, some privets, and same grass, behind every house in Ellesmere Road. Only difference where there are no kids theres no bare patch in the middle. I was trying to shave with a bluntish razor-blade while the water ran into the bath. My face looked back at me out of the mirror, and underneath, in a tumbler of water on the little shelf over the washbasin, the teeth that belonged in the face. It was the temporary set that Warner, my dentist, had given me to wear while the new ones were being made. I havent such a bad face, really. Its one of those bricky-red faces that go with butter-coloured hair and pale-blue eyes. Ive never gone grey or bald, thank God, and when Ive got my teeth in I probably dont look my age, which is forty-five.