Her husband, Peter, wassomething in the city. He caught the 7.15 train into London in themornings and was rarely back before seven in the evening, so...it wasunlikely I would ever meet him.I could tell Joyce was seriously stressed and I was beginning tounderstand why: a big house to run, four children, an absenteehusband, and a job of her own to hold down. I was amazed she wasfunctional at all.At first glance it seemed that the three ladies' efforts focused onhygiene rather than tidiness. . So 3 weeks later, at the beginning of July, we crossed the channel, to Calais, on the way to Paris, we stop for coffee, i notice that There was a lot of lorries, Back on the motorway, my husband explained about the lorries, e said that most of them they stop in this places to eat and sleep in their lorries, so I told my husband to take his weeding ring off, I took my mine off, and he started to laugh, I said that we are brother and younger sister, we were half way to Bordeaux, we stopped in a. More

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