The Tall Girl from Somerset

This is the story of Anne, a tall girl from Somerset.

That's it then.  Our curtain falls too. For now, at least, we leave Anne and Harvey and Henry all busily occupying themselves and getting on with things.

Somerset is one of the happiest of English counties.

On a Friday evening in the middle of December, when the mornings are dark, and the afternoons are dark, and even midday is dark, but when Christmas is coming and the goose is getting fat, Anne was unenthusiastically looking through her wardrobe for something to wear to Janet’s party.

It takes us a long time to sort things out. Sometimes we rise to the occasion. Sometimes we don't.

If only we could see ourselves as others see us! As so often, Burns was right.

If you’ve time, I’d like to have another word with you. I have to make the most of every opportunity, you know, before I’m put out to grass for good.

Lorna was the perfect Belle Dame Sans Merci.  How many palely loitering knights she had already enthralled Harvey never knew, and never dared to ask. 

It’s me, Henry. I don’t want to butt in but I’d just like a quick word, if you’ve time, that is. I am going to ride a couple of hobby horses of mine. Miss this bit out if you like. I can't stop you.

Anne remembered a really important case from March the year before. It was one that she had desperately wanted to win.