Somehow it make me think of my mother and father fat away in Puddleby, with their regular habits, the evening practise on the flute and the rest - doing the same thing every day. I felt sorry of sorry for them in a way, because they must the fun of this traveling life, where we were doing something new ask the time- even sleeping differently. But I suppose if they had been invited to go to bed on a pavement in front of a shop they wouldn't have cared for the idea at all. It is funny how some people are.
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