It gets embarrassing at times when there are guests in the house, even if they are family and ought to know what to expect. There was a time when I was genuinely afraid of these idiotic questions, but now, apart from the fact that I must know the height, length, breadth, area and volume of just about every part of the house and everything in it, I can see my father's obsession for what it is. I shook my head at him, scowling, and wiped the brown rim of soup from the inside of my plate. 'Thirty inches,' I told him, and took a crust from the bin.
I turned round and looked at him, wondering why he was bothering with such an easy question. “What height is this table?' he said suddenly, just as I was about to go to the bread bin for a slice to wipe my plate with.
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