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Number 8, Railway Terrace. Just one of many industrial Victorian red brick terrace houses in London. To be honest, it wasn't really well looked after...

The terrace squatted in a rather ugly area backing the train tracks, you see. It was noisy, dirty and reeked of diesel fumes from the railway.

It was around Autumn of 1960. September most likely. I can't remember these things nowadays. Well it was around that time that I decided to rent number 8. It wasn't the best area like I said, but it was all I could afford at the time.

Anyway, what does it matter? A house is a house you know.

Generic.

Well that's what I thought...

EthelTempat cerita menjadi hidup. Temukan sekarang