A necklace, a paperclip, some rather unwelcome fireworks
Breakfast. Our last cup of tea made with well water. It tastes as if chrysanthemums have died in it. But it’s not as bad as that fly. The men looked after us well and seem sad we’re leaving early. But...
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‘Fashion designers have those,’ says the little girl, looking up at me as I tromp down the stairs. She’s standing beside the mannequin I bought in a local dress shop’s closing-down sale. ‘I’d like to...
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