“... London had wearied her. Margot had tired of social gatherings in soulless wine
bars and boring dinner parties with inedible food and indigestible conversation.
The country cottage had looked so inviting and the promise of community that the
advertisement offered was almost too good to be true.
... By day two in her new home she realised that she had made a terrible mistake.
God, how she hated the countryside. It was a foreign land where the climate was
awful and the natives hostile.
... He guessed that she was the woman from London. She wouldn’t stay long, her sort
... The sign read ‘G. Farmer and Son’. By tradition all the Farmer men were given
names beginning with ‘G’. There was no rhyme or reason for this but it served a
purpose, the sign never had to be replaced. The Farmers were nothing if not thrifty.
...There was a minor problem, to begat a son one needed a wife, or at least a willing