A mobile café had arrived, serving hot food and drink to grateful hikers. Jack smiled wryly at the garish sign-writing on the side of the van, announ...ing its identity: ‘The Hound of the Basket Meals’. He wondered what Sir Arthur would have made of it. At nearby Widecombe, merriment had been scheduled, in the form of visiting Morris dancers. To Jack’s untrained eye, this consisted of men and women dressed in frilly shirts and floppy hats, wearing bells wherever bells could be worn, waving. " Really messed her up. And then when that fucking Evan creature turnedup hammering on the door a couple of weeks back! It would mean a lot toher, calling her Mam." He's... She's messed up too. Nobody came out of it well."She shrugged. "Are you really a lezza? Sorry, not a good word that.Lesbian."I shrugged back. "Men do nothing for me." I held her eye. "I've alwaysbeen a lesbian. Just covered it up." With shit men!" There'll be no more like him for me." That's good then. Let's see a photo of. More

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