While she'd like me to believe that her English childhood was spent in the shadows of the coal pit, New Girl couldn't help but tell me the other day that the house she grew up in was covered in a honeysuckle vine that wound itself round her bedroom window.
Did its green leaves create a gently swaying, dappled shadow effect in her room? Why yes.
And did the delicate scent of the vine refresh her senses as she read the latest wizard adventures in Bunty magazine? But of course.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: she's messin' with my mind.
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