London: Pandora the pretty in pork piglet
Who can resist the smell of frying bacon wafting up the stairs and into your sleep on a sunday morning? Well, probably not me. I have to say, however, that I ever since meeting Pickles the tiny porker back in January I’ve felt a little guilty for snacking on the flesh of her sweet and sour bretheren. Eating something you once knit a jumper for takes a guilt mastery that I have become shamefully skilled at. Nowadays I munch bacon butties without a thought for my porcine pal. Until...
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