“Alright, lads, fishing can wait,” decided Victor, snatching up the landing net. “
**The Bench of the Man No One Saw** Each morning, as the first rays of sunlight brushed the rooftops
London, winter of 1991. The city woke to a biting cold that seeped right into your bones. Frost-covered
*Diary Entry* **”If you think I do nothing for you, try living without me!”** That evening
In a snug little café on Burton Street, tucked between ageing red-brick houses and narrow alleyways
“Excuse me, miss, do you know who I belong to?” a small voice asked. I turned to see a little
**Diary Entry** I heard a small voice behind me. “Excuse me, miss?” I turned to see a little
In a small café tucked away on Burton Street, hidden among old red-brick houses and narrow alleyways