I apologize for the slight delay for this update, I’m sick and went to bed early last night.
On page 2 is my kitchen. In England, most places have their washing machines in the kitchen, with no drier. I went four and a half months without a drier, hanging my clothes everywhere: curtains, the stair railing, off the front of the bed. I think the English just hang them outside, but I didn’t have a line in the garden, so I improvised.
The Clydesdale was just… there. Off this little path in the neighborhood, and if you kept following the path, you got to the highway. It was relatively magical.