My Dirty Life
I’m a dirty girl. Not a day in my life have I managed stain free! My mother gave up. I’d return from exploring, face covered in muck, hair looking like it had been dragged through several hedges backwards (it most likely had), knees scuffed, shoes usually wet from trying to jump the brook at the bottom of the hill, and, oooops, not quite making it. Climbing trees, falling out of trees, making fires and roasting potatoes (sooty skins and rock hard centres). You can imagine the
