The home I lived in for the first six years of my life was a small brick house in London overlooking a HUGE sawyer's yard (my father ran security).
I remember when we moved to Somerset, that we looked at several houses to rent, but I rejected them all (at age 7) if the water in the toilet was too deep (so a shark might come up there and bite you). The one we eventually rented for most of my teenage years did have deep-ish toilet water, which made me uneasy, but that was overshadowed by the solid diamond doorhandle to the living room. Solid diamond, riiiiiiiight. Well, when you are 7 and have a vivid imagination, anything is possible, isn't it?
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