Steve’s sitting on the loo trying to work out how many hours of his life he’s spent sitting on the loo. It’s not the first time. He struggles with the early years because he doesn’t know when he grew out of nappies (he’d ring his mum but her brain has changed; his sister was always odd). There are also the times of illness, mind fuddled with fever or booze. And the pees in the night when he’s too tired to stand, trying not to think about work. He sighs and tries again. Sighs and tries again. Some certainty would be nice.