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I would love to follow on with an exercise to describe characters. I am grateful to authors who just stop mid narration and tell me about the new character and they make it flow and seem natural. It always feels awkward when I try.

You enter thru a heavy oak door with a scrolled brass handle. You'll have to jiggle the key but for some reason it opens when the lurcher stands and looks through the glass mullioned windows to each side. Best not to think too much about that. The entry is where all the chests and cabinets too big for other rooms somehow were rubric cubed into position. They are filled with the flotsam and jetsam of the world's charity shops. Crystal bowls engraved for some long forgotten fete, Edwardian silver egg warmers, Japanese sake cups... The walls are outlined with a lily Wm Morris print and each corner holds a mini spider Miss Havisham wedding table festooned and hung with wizened skeletons of old feasts. Leave your boots there amid the others stacked against the wall, or tipped over and left sprawling.
Sounds like a space to get lost in...in a good way!
 
It's an absolute masterpiece. About 3 pounds for as much spicy vegetables, rice, tofu and watermelon as you want! My kids are monsters and refuse, so they go to McDonalds and I go there.
Watermelon... As much as you want.... That's my afternoon sorted. Somehow I have ended up in countries where a large watermelon is a chihuahua-sized thing weighing a few kilos and costing 5 euros. I dream of Kansas watermelons sold out of old Chevy trucks by the side of the road. Black Diamond, Pink Princess, Sweet Crimson, the armful that is plain old green Jubilee. Cooled in a mossy cattle tank and cut with a crack like a gunshot. Every summer picnic of my childhood.
 

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