Dear Sit

I found this in an old pack of typing paper that my grandmother gave to my mother to give to me.
(also a mystery is why my mother would give me ANYTHING, which you'll understand if you've ever met that pscyho)

I think the typewriter belonged to my uncle Ian who was trying to type a letter. Then along came Sandy/Alex, another uncle (who I don't think I've ever met) who RULES OK(!) Liz is his wife. Maybe they were all drunk.

20p! When I was little I used to play a game where I had an imaginary shop. EVERYTHING in my shop was 20p. I would like to go to this shop now.

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