Tag Archives: potato

Left behind groceries at LIDL (Rousse)

A pile of groceries lay on the floor at the entrance to LIDL: a cabbage, a dozen potatoes, a few sprouts, and six tins of tomatoes. They’d been there for at least two days, but nobody knew the reason why. … Continue reading

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Smoke, sausages, and exclusion (Rousse)

It was impossible to disguise that I was an middle class English woman, and did not belong in a Northern Irish Protestant working men’s club. However, my hosts were keen for me to witness the atmosphere in the smoke-filled bar, … Continue reading

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A birthday weekend of scent, satin, a speech, kisses and sick (Rousse)

Our flat was packed with visitors for the weekend of my birthday, many of whom had travelled a long distances to be with me. AW and JS had come all the way from Farnham, Surry – together, on friendly terms. … Continue reading

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Rwandan driver leads travellers a merry dance over the sand dunes of Holy Island with a horse (Rousse)

After an enormous breakfast of smoked salmon and roast potatoes – some of which I had to put back in the fridge because I simply couldn’t manage it all – I caught the train south. My travelling companions were TPR, … Continue reading

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Potato and pea poisoning in buy-to-let investment (Rousse)

TPR and I and some friends invested in a buy-to-let flat. One of our co-investors took the lead on the renovations and started by dismantling the navy blue bath. We chose the wallpaper (in the event too expensive for a … Continue reading

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Films stars and seals meet their maker on Devon beach (Rousse)

TPR sat on a bar stool at the other end of the café. While chatting away to some random woman, he glanced in my direction and winked the message “Don’t worry, I know I’m yours. I’ll be over to you … Continue reading

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Undercover mission goes awry (Belle)

I was tall sandy-haired boy. Although still only 15 I had been entrusted to undertake surveillance at the new cafe on Hilly Fields. Sipping a vanilla milkshake I saw a middle-aged man pushing a tea trolley. By dropping my napkin, … Continue reading

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