A ruin by any another name...

Despite Frances’ enthusiasm, I was not all that keen to explore another ruin. Roman arenas and aqueducts and arches were one thing, mosaics under glass quite another. But I kept my thoughts to myself. Frances had been such a good sport about hosting my parents, I could hardly complain about a little sightseeing. And, I had to admit, some of the sites she’d picked had turned out to be a better kettle of fish than I had imagined.

Our cottage in Chichester

“This is funny,” said Frances, opening and closing drawers in the kitchen. “We get six of everything. Look!”
She was right. Knives, forks plates, glasses, cups. Six of everything. Except for electrical sockets. In the kitchen, five plugs were fitted together like large bits of Lego, clustered around just one outlet in the wall.
Six towels. Then we saw six bars of soap. When we discovered the stock of toilet rolls, we stopped counting.