I had an email from the eBay lady last week.  Its very presence in my inbox struck fear into my heart.  With a shaking hand, I clicked on the email and braced myself for its contents.

What could it be?  Did she need training in selling items on eBay?   Did she require our aid in transporting the old kitchen to its new home?  Was everyone else she knew in hospital? Was there a drawer still in Barry’s car boot?  Did we forget to tell her what this piece of wood was for?

She was writing to thank me for sending the pictures.  I breathed again.

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