A Quote by Gregg Wallace

I had a poor upbringing. We lived in a rented house with no bathroom and an outside toilet and that, combined with the fact that I left home at 15 without any serious education, has always made me feel like I have to compete.
My privileged upbringing and education and linguistic fluency gave me such proximity to whiteness that it stung all the more to still find myself outside of it. My mother, on the other hand, not only accepted that she would always be an outsider in this country but also believed it to be a finer fate and home than any other she could have had.
Despite the fact that she was essentially comatose, she somehow made his whole house feel different just by being there. Before it had been just a house—a very impressive house no doubt, but a house nonetheless. But for some reason, with Taylor there it felt more like a home.
If you stay in a house and you go to the bathroom and there is no toilet paper, you can always slide down the banisters. Don't tell me you haven't done it.
I grew up on a street that's similar to the ones you used to see in Coronation Street on TV. We had an outside toilet at the bottom of the yard and I had to share a bedroom until my older sisters left home.
We had a house in Baga, Goa, that we would visit every Christmas vacation. It was called Love House. The toilet was outside the house. We had no water; someone had to get it from the well. My dad was huge then, but he could walk, go to the local tavern, have a beer and take an auto back.
Fashion is a tool... to compete in life outside the home. People like you better, without knowing why, because people always react well to a person they like the looks of.
My house always had at least 14 people in it. And one bathroom. So I didn't really want to be home.
I was never made to feel that fashion was frivolous and any old dress would do. Fashion was serious stuff in my house and in my life. In fact, most memories I have growing up involve beautiful dresses.
I began to feel that all the people I'd ever known who had died or left me had not in fact gone away, but continued to live on inside me just as this man's wife lived on inside him.
There was a time when my parents had to sell off a plot of land so that I can buy a rifle for competitive tournaments. After that we stayed in a rented house for the next 15 years.
My dad had a third-grade education in Mexico. Third grade. My mom had a fifth-grade education. They were raised in a poor home... They got married and they had their family, but there's hardly any future.
I grew up, until age 6, in Chicago. My parents rented their apartment and, at the end of the Depression, my parents wanted to replicate that situation. So, again, we lived in a somewhat suburban setting outside of New York City, and again, they rented.
The day I was born, my house burnt down; the day I left home, the Twin Towers burnt down; and I lived in a jungle in India at 15.
I go on the bus, I walk. A friend left his car recently at my house and I took it out one day just for 15 minutes and it was terrible. You know why? I felt like I was back in LA again. Four or five years ago, when I had a car and I had been out of the city I wouldn't feel I was back until I got in the car, you know. But now I feel off the grid. I feel that I am not part of the culture. And because I don't have a car I don't really go anywhere to buy things. In fact, I have been in a slow process of selling and giving away everything I own.
I have always had a ridiculous fear that I will walk into the bathroom one morning and find a python in my toilet.
I live in a Mobile Home - I've never had a house, except once; I rented a log cabin.
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