mummy used to complain that daddy loved his greenhouse more than his real house. (…) and no silky mistress was ever cared for as much as the green velvet lawn upon which daddy lavished vitamins and weedkiller. i remember the day philip was shown how to mow it. it’s a man’s job, judith. women are congenitally incapable of straight lines. end of story. a lesser woman would still be bitter.
from „judith castle“ by david mitchell
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