“Where did you go to high school, grandma?” my 11-year-old granddaughter enquired, ever the curious little squirrel. “Well, it’s a bit complicated,” I reply. She waited. “You see, I went to school in England — a boarding school — from the age of 9-15.” She gasped. “You mean you had to sleep there? At school?” “Yes,” I reply. “Every night.” “Oh grandma,” she touched my arm sweetly with enormous concern in her eyes. “What did you do?” And there so…
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