When we visit my sister’s house, there is a comfortingly familiar routine. We go in around the back door (someone is usually dying for the loo), put the bag up in the usual bedroom and then perch around the kitchen island and have tea. More trivial issues are dealt with first. On our last visit, it was that I had got a new car, about which there wasn’t that much to say other than – disappointingly – the car radio doesn’t have longwave. (I can use an app, but I like the sound of a scratchy BBC World Service.
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