GRAVEL-ON-CHIPS

Despite the diet entering only its 24th hour, I couldn’t resist the smell of greasy, salty, ketchup smothered chips that go hand-in-hand with slightly grubby, open-air stadium sports a step above ‘grass-roots’; the kind of food served in a cold port-a-cabin by an even colder woman. It was however, with a light dusting of sand…

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