As we walked the lane where butterflies wafted she tol d me the reason why her pallette was black. Her sockets so red it hadn't been said "Why can't you see the branch of the tree?
I wonder if the world of Jean, the contributor who kindly became my precious guinea pig, would have thought our brave new world of 2013 be a better place to be than her world.
Edna Sherwood I moved here when I was thirteen and I am eighty-three now. My father was Finedon born and bred and he wanted to come back to Finedon. Our mother sadly died when I was eight.
