i have only to look down at my sadly unremarkable hand ( a smaller version of my fathers ) as it guides the pen across the page , or glance across the room at the glass on the wall and confirm that this mornings careful curls have wilted to an alarming degree , to know that in her eyes i must seem almost expressly fashioned to disappoint her every maternal hope ; even if she had not scrupulously informed me of it at choice intervals over the past ten years .