Imagine the scene. You are fourteen and eleven years old. It’s Saturday night. Your mum is flapping around the house, running backwards and forwards to the kitchen – in her turban, wearing glittery eye shadow and possibly her dance shoes. She’s setting the coffee table with snacks and she’s already opened the cava. You’ve got […]
listening to the turban-wearing eccentric old lady with giant feathery earrings, who’s a regular here and obviously alone in the world, sitting at the bar finding conversation with the staff, and realising, ‘that’s ME in 15 years’!