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Monday, 30 November 2009

During the war.

I only ever lived in one 'bed and breakfast', the live in owner was a old woman who came across as a rancourous old witch, the 'lodgers' were expected to eat breakfast then disappear until bedtime, she didn't like us to do any washing and reluctantly allowed us to have showers, our living space was segregated by a locked door, at least there was a TV with sky news, breakfast was left in the kitchen for us, usually a tray of eggs, a loaf of bread and a bowl of cereal, she would frequently interrupt us at all times and regale us with stories about when she was some kind of dancer in WW2 before virtually telling us to get out of her house, I knew my days were numbered when she caught me using the washing machine, I had several replica football shirts of differing colours/teams in her warped imagination I was 'washing a pub teams gear', needless to say I was on the move shortly afterwards.

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