A different Sunday Roast…

The men in charge, perfect wives, mannerly, children learning piano, tutored, Sunday lunch a must, children well behaved, sent to their rooms if insolent, but always loved, smiling family portraits, perfection almost, until you gaze over the garden wall, the tall chimneys used to burn the children of others, a rather different picture than the Sunday lunch routine they wanted their own to believe.

There were many contradictions, many, and what had gone on in the past, is a mirror of the future, and what could happen, unless the hearts changed. Wisdom was to be found in many places, even the most inhumane, like the

Sunday roast

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