I met another Sarah today, a friendly, talkative one who
lives at the bottom of the lane near the pub. She’s older than M’Lady – more
urbane, more extrovert I would say, and there appeared to be nothing remotely
strange about her. We talked for quite some time in the warm sunshine of an unseasonably
spring-like March day. As far as I recall, the conversation was mostly about
pernicious weeds, Canada,
bears, and a shared interest in Oxfordshire. It passed a pleasant half hour;
and to round it off, she touched my arm. Well, fancy that.
So do I now have to write about Sarahs 1 and 2?
No. Let it be irrevocably stated here that there is only one
Sarah.
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