When my brother used to come home on leave he would bring some really good books and magazines for me. Being the youngest I had the smallest room, thi... was at the end of a corridor with just enough room for my bed, draws and a hanging cupboard. We were always first home, our parents did not get home for a couple of hours after us so Wendy would start preparing the evening meal while I did other things usually in my room. (she never came into my room!) This one afternoon I had been looking. I'm just bad with names at times." It's okay." He just stood there, looking lost and a little out of place."Um, may I ask why you said I was good?" Oh. That." He gestured to the small sign I'd been hanging above the shop door. "Charlene Delaney: Freelance Writer" it said. "I read your article in the Tribune last Sunday. Very articulate and informative. You're obviously good at what you do." Thank you." I felt my face turning red. Compliments tended to fluster me."Well, I have to be going now.". More

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