I was a boy every week-day afternoon the year I was seven. Hitched my school skirt into shorts, flattened my hair with a black ballet band, wore my brother’s elasticated tie. I had many different names: sometimes Paul or Steven (boy next door), sometimes Dean (rough) or Jean Paul (exotic), here on exchange. I didn’t bother with chit chat, got straight down to the … Continue reading ‘When I Was A Boy’ by Liz Berry