This is a fictional account of life in a small village. It is just possible that there is a teensy-weensy spark of truth in some of it, but the rest should be taken with whatever is left in the Cheshire salt mines.
I’ve got the most appalling stomach upset – well, we both have. I’m just online long enough to warn anyone reading this – don’t eat mushrooms that you’ve picked in the woods at the bottom of your garden unless you’re a fungi-ologist. Urrggghh....
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