A story for Alan
My mother once had a friend who she managed to keep for a while. Carol wore a communist cap and dungarees and pulled a shopping trolley full of her belongings; she was so poor that my mother said she heated her soup in a kettle. She was also a militant in the Cats’ Protection League.
One weekend, my mother was coming to stay with me and she asked Carol to look after Smokey her cat, who we called…