Under my scarf is a can of beer ... one of a set of four that I smuggled into Kingston Hospital thinking (quite rightly) that they might offer my father a small crumb of pleasure or comfort in what otherwise has been a long and difficult day. I'll be back there very first thing in the morning (they'll only let one relative stay over). But I did adopt a DIY approach to catering, albeit with only a small Co-op branch to work with. I've eaten a lot of carrots.
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