Summer holidays are meant to be fun.
A time for freedom, not a time to hear mother yelling for me to do this, do that… don’t do that… make yourself useful.
The sooner I did the jobs she wanted, the better I would be able to go out and run all the way to my favourite place, the River Thames.
To the old houseboat tied up outside the church, with its small graveyard, each headstone facing the water. The boat belonged to the vicar from the time before he wore the white collar. He knew I visited and never told me to go away.
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