$PDF$/READ/DOWNLOAD Scribble, Scribble, Scribble: Writings on Ice Cream, Obama, Churchill & My Mother
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Wednesday brought a pungent sheepy smell emanating from the greyish lamb and barley soup my mother optimistically called 'Taste of the Garden of Eden'. Expel me, please. Haddock in the air? That would be Thursday. The faintest whiff of roasting garlic? That would be what my sister and I uncharitably dubbed 'Friday Night Memorial Chicke