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The memory of dear old Ruchel would forever remain, even when we were back at home in dull, drizzly London

You need to factor in those four minutes, at least once, because it’s part of the route

Even as we watched, we understood why our mother hated it

We didn’t know, then, if he would ever speak. If we would ever hear that sweet, sweet voice

It was vacation time, and (say it with me) the kids were bored

I remember thinking, Why can’t this process be a little more like in America?