Frolicking through the Festival Fringe
The clock was ticking as we sprinted towards the open doors of the Tube. With the promise of a West End show in less than 2 hours, and a suspecting group to come back to, we knew we had to book it. “Come on!” shouted Sundance, our director’s wife. We pushed through a swarm of people and filed onto the still car. As I stepped up, I felt cool metal brush my arm, and I knew the doors were closing,...
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