For Mark in Bhutan
So yesterday we happened to be going to town by a different route, one which took me past my now-gone primary school, the now-gone swimming/public baths and wash house and the parade of shops where Potters bakey was.
It's not there any longer, nor is Dobson's the sweet shop not the fish and chip shop not the strangely shaped off-licence on the pointed corner of two roads.
Nor is the street where I was brought up.
I wish I hadn't gone now, it was depressing. And I blame you for asking!