Summer, a short poem

The sun comes up, the earth gets warm, the masses rush to the beach, in an unorganised swarm. The waves wash up and tickle the sand, pulling in and back out, oh isn't it grand. A little girl with an ice cream dripping down her limb, her brother rushes to the writhing water, desperate for…

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A night of decadence at StrattonsĀ 

When I was a little girl my mother always told me that she could see I had an eye for luxury. I would flick through the pages of magazines such as Cosmopolitan, Elle and Home and Garden. I would tear out the pages covered in vintage handbags, shoes, modern art and Tudor mansions and proceed…