It was the first time and I was so nervous cycling through That London.
I tagged on to some other cyclists which felt safer so I carried on following them, we were like ants in a Game Park scooting alongside herds of migrating vehicles and I lost track of exactly where I was but I was cool in the bike pack so I figured that they probably knew the best way to go.
Unfortunately this meant that I took a very long way to school and I'd have got there quicker if I'd walked.
When I got back to this week's lodgings I walked into the living room and discovered that this week's cat had used her bottom to draw a
long skid mark all along the arm of the fat white sofa - it's like a child
with a box of brown crayons came to visit.
France’s uneasy relationship with the Holocaust - Caroline Moorehead at the Times Literary Supplement: When, in 2004, Irene Némirovsky’s lost manuscript,Suite française, came out in France, it became the l...
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