The Reluctant Detectorist

Mother is asleep on her bed, a biscuit clenched in her right hand. Her right hand lies on her heart. She looks like an effigy on a tomb gently holding an important family relic, which she hopes will come with her into the future. ‘Once she’s got hold of a Hob Knob, she won’t letContinue reading “The Reluctant Detectorist”