Dear Mother, The weather was beautiful and the sky showed pretty fluffy clouds that drift and form pretty pictures, that any imagination can play with. The ladies were dressed in their 19th Century costumes in heavy jute, and had their sleeves rolled up at the village washing well. The sheets lay over the edges of the huge water source, as they scrubbed away with a round pad filled with something that vaguely resembled soap, laughter lines showing on their faces, and their humour filling the Breton air with a sense of fun, making light of hard work and discussing the usefulness of the male ...
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