´óÏó´«Ã½

Peter Girard had this racehorse called ‘Irish Eyes’, which had been trained also to pull a trap or a cart and a light van, and the Germans, who we always considered rather thick between the ears, would be in a field that they had commandeered, of vegetables. Now they’d paid for it, but of course they just printed their own marks, they didn’t really mean much. They would be digging them at one end and Peter’s father with an assistant would be at the other end loading up. Nobody ever asked any questions! Quite unbelievable, you know. And we always had plenty of soup.
ARTHUR KLEIN

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.