Sisters, a husband, and parents on holiday (Rousse)

It seemed inappropriate that two little blonde sisters aged six and eight wearing white shift dresses would be showing tourists around a World War I theme park.

It was also rather odd that TPR was not staying in the plush hotel with me for the duration of our wet holiday. He’d set up  camp in a small Polish boarding house in town (although on the day that I travelled by tummy skateboard to visit him there, they told me that he was in the pub).

Perhaps I’d be better off with my parents, in the car, driving south through the US, expressing our astonishment at the plate glass modernity of all the cities that we passed, and dreading the long journey back north again.

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