86: Man, you been a naughty boy; you let your face grow long…
Until last summer, we lived at the end of a cul-de-sac. Beside our house was a small alley; backing onto this alley were garages belonging to the houses in the adjoining street.
Like this:
When we moved in, the garage closest us belonged to a sweet old lady who’d owned her house since it was built in the thirties. She didn’t have a car but kept the paintwork looking nice: green and cream – probably the same as when she moved in. Continue reading →