Read Online The ABCs of Love by Sarah Salway - Free Book Online

That’s what got me thinking that maybe your name becomes more important than something you just have dangling down from your body, like a scarf or a handbag. Your name gets into your lifeblood, so a Jane is always going to be different from a Mercedes. A Daisy from a Violet. A Kate from a Verity.
    In which case, it worries me even more how many Conservative politicians are named Norman.
    “How many people do you know called Norman?” I asked John one night. He said he knew no one personally.
    “Now think how many Conservatives you can name,” I said. “They even marry Normas. Is this something that happens at birth, or do you turn Conservative from years of being bullied at school?”
    John told me that he was at school with someone who wanted to be a spy. This boy would never let himself be photographed in case it could be used against him later. John couldn’t remember his name, even when I told him I was at school with a girl called Jackie Gotobed.
    See also Codes; Surnames; Words
    new men
    Sally and I agree that we could never love a new man. It’s not just the sandals either. It’s the lack of juice. You want to feed them raw steak. John says that what he loves most about me is the way I desire him. He says it makes him feel real. I can’t talk about this with Sally. She’d think I was just a sex object for John.
    See also Marathons; Phone Calls; Rude; Sex
    noddy
    John was once sitting down watching television with his wife when he remembered a joke someone had told him. He laughed so much that his wife prodded him to shut up, but John was so helpless with laughter, he rolled off the sofa and onto the carpet. He sobered up then and got back up. Neither of them referred to the incident at all. They just carried on watching the program. This has worried John for a long time, which is why I try to laugh with him at the joke; but if I’m honest, I find it sad rather than funny. This is how it goes:
    Noddy was going to see his good friend Big Ears. He woke up in the morning and was very excited.
    “Thank you, bed,” he said, “for letting me sleep so well so I can be wide awake to see my good friend Big Ears.”
    And then he went to the bathroom.
    “Thank you, bathroom,” he said, “for letting me use you so I can be well prepared to see my good friend Big Ears.”
    And then he went to have some breakfast.
    “Thank you, kitchen,” he said, “for being there so I can prepare food to give me energy to see my good friend Big Ears. Thank you, food,” he said as he ate, “for filling me up so I can see my good friend Big Ears. Thank you, floor,” he said as he crossed the room, “for taking me to the door so I can see my good friend Big Ears. Thank you, door,” he said as he went outside, “for letting me out of the house to see my good friend Big Ears.”
    He went to his car. “Thank you, car,” he said as he got in, “for taking me to see my good friend Big Ears.”
    He drove along. “Thank you, tarmac; thank you, pavement; thank you, traffic signals; thank you, map; thank you, road directions; thank you, thank you, thank you, everyone who is helping me see my good friend Big Ears.”
    He parked outside his friend’s house. “Thank you, road, for letting me leave my car so I can see my good friend Big Ears. Thank you, gate, for opening so I can go and see my good friend, Big Ears. Thank you, path, for taking me up to the house of my good friend Big Ears. Thank you, doorbell, for letting me ring to alert my good friend Big Ears.”
    He waited until he could hear footsteps coming down the stairs inside the little house.
    “Thank you, stairs,” he whispered, “for bringing my good friend Big Ears closer and closer to me.”
    At last, Big Ears opened the door.
    “Fuck off, Noddy,” he said.
    See also Doors; Houses; Liqueur Chocolates; Youth
    normals
    Last summer Sally and I were on a train when we noticed that the two men in the seats across the aisle had not looked at us once.
    This was