Standing in the oldest, coldest, darkest bach we’d ever holidayed in, I slipped through the cracks in time and touched Canterbury history.
I could hear the woman who had lived in this south-facing abode berating her husband at night: “Get me some wallpaper to cheer this place up!” she wailed.
So he did. Five different patterns. One for each room. Which could explain how she ended up with a bedroom papered in a Beardsley print of partly dressed nymphets.
Sloppy word choice will get you every time!
Recommended reading: Baches & Cribs
Assignment 3: What’s your Canterbury bach horror/love story?