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Roz Symon

Writer, Illustrator & Creative Communications Coach

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Posted on by Roz Symon

157

Younger son comes wearily down at quarter to midnight, unable to sleep. “It’s the chicken”, he says. In our part of town some houses have small balconies, but few have gardens. It seems the family next door is keeping a chicken in an upstairs bedroom, a chicken which doesn’t always sleep at night.

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