“We’re all going on a, summer holiday”.
Every year I awoke with mum singing.
My heart, beat with excitement.
Whisked away into a waiting taxi.
The drive felt like hours.
It was minutes.
The Canaries we travelled to.
Every year with very few exceptions.
Black beaches, golden beaches, volcanos.
That same resort year in year out, reliable like the tide.
That pool.
Ev…
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