Tuesday, 17 July 2012


My wardrobe used to be inhabited by old-fashioned Lepidoptera of decent size, restrained eating habits and the acceptance that moth balls were things to die for not dance at. Now I have the present generation of teenagers: tiny, indiscriminately voracious for any fabric and partying giddily at the smell of the little sachets I put in there to see them off.  If they all love wool so much, why aren't sheep covered with the little blighters?

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