I live in Chelmsford with my daughter. I own and run a bespoke engineering business which has done remarkably well in recent times, so I’m actually ...retty well-off these days. I’m English. White. Nearly, but not quite, six feet tall. Eleven and a half stone. Blue eyes. Brown hair, and plenty of it, not even a hint of MPB yet. I’m blessed with a pretty-decent masculine body, I eat well, keep myself fit and stay in trim. This time last year I wouldn’t have said that I was a particularly. Her only son had left home now with a family of his own down south so she was in a fairly solitary lifestyle my wife being her best friend. I had occasion to visit, delivering a parcel taken in for her by my wife and, as we all do round here, knocking and letting myself into her kitchen, where I found her in tears. She was quick to dry her eyes and obviously didn’t want me to see she was upset, so like a good neighbour I ignored her tears pretending not to notice. She accepted the gift. More

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