The air in his alphabet room was cool, felt even more so because she knew the day would pant into afternoon and sweat into evening, dampening the night so she dreamt of rain or leaky taps and
The snow fell. Soft and white it blanketed the garden. We stepped out with virgin prints, her crutches left damp black holes. Bangs and sizzles, filtered through flakes as large as doilies.
The Roberts were just plain greedy. Ugly, feckless and greedy - what a bunch of bloody eejits. It was obvious to anyone with half a brain that they were ‘copycatting’...