Notes on a G-string (Rousse)

While my father fretted over whether or not soup would be served at the pre-wedding breakfast the night before my cousin’s wedding in Somerset, I hunted in desperation for clean underwear.

My sister and HJ unearthed an over-complicated G-string. Aghast at the confusing mesh of pink straps and ribbons, it felt like they had asked me to try on an octopus.

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