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of green and brown dots,
I might add. He said he
didn’t know why he didn’t
like this pattern but later
on told me it reminded
him of dog turds on the
grass and that was why
he could never eat his
dinner. ‘Oh,’ I just said
when he informed me.
Ciaran had an eating
disorder so bad he had
to be hospitalised at one
time, which is why, when
my parents, my aunt and
cousin Chuck watched me
dancing from behind the
garden hedge, he hadn’t
been with them. Because
that was the hospital time
and Auntie Errie had come
up from Plymouth to be
supportive to Mum. I just
said ‘Oh,’ when Ciaran
talked about the dog poo
making him feel too sick to
eat food because I knew
full well that his problem
went way beyond that as
he hadn’t been able to
eat last year or the year
before that and we didn’t
have the curtains then, we
only had blinds that were
plain blue and had nothing
to do with food images as
blue wasn’t a colour that
you usually associated
with food of any kind,
except the sort of sweets
my mum wouldn’t let us
have. My mother said
blue food wasn’t
natural
,
which brings me back.
Natural is at least being
able to breathe I guess,
but maybe soon we’ll find
another way of surviving.
Because of the pollution in
the air Ciaran got asthma
attacks. He’d be making
this wheezing sound in
the night and I’d have to
call Mum. Ciaran used
to make bad-devil faces
at me before we went to
sleep and he said he was