equals untold injury to the mind.

So I, like Kate, was considering how to limit the harm to my brain when Tom, the old man who lives up the road, came by. He said something which sounded like an invitation to come and see his 'right mighty runner beans'. Having previously been uninterested in Tom's vegetables, it suddenly seemed that a look at those noble legumes might be just the respite I needed. As a damage limitation device, I'd recommend it. Maybe Mossy would feel better if she swapped London for the Good Life: decamped to her Cotswolds hideaway and got stuck into growing her own. Somehow I don't see it happening though.