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They came at 8.45 this morning. The big silver-grey van parked outside my front garden and "Cyril Smith" parked his shiney black people-carrier behind it. He came up the drive first, with a booming, "Good morning." He was followed by his son (the plumber) and daughter-in-law (plumber's mate and tiler).
David, the son, is well-made and has his father's eyes. I had expected his wife, Laura, to be a large, perhaps a bit butch, woman but I was surprised to be greeted by a tall slim lady, with long dark hair, wearing very smart overalls and very nicely spoken.
There was no hanging about. First of all, huge dust sheets were laid in my hall, up the stairs and on the landing then, while "Cyril"...
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