My family owns a guest house, and I don't like people staying. A woman knocked at the door and I told her I was sorry, but we didn't have rooms for the night. I had a bag of about ten sandwiches in my hand, but I hate my mother's sandwiches because she puts the butter on about an inch thick. My mother then asked me who had been at the door when I closed it, and I said it was a woman but I'd told her we had no room. I was also looking for a quick way to get rid of the sandwiches. My mother ordered me to run after the woman and tell her that we do have room. So I run, arms and legs flailing, after the poor woman, who was halfway up the street, and I was screaming and waving sandwiches. They went everywhere, on the floor, on the bonnets and windscreens of people's cars, and, aided by me, also found their way into the gutter, and the hair of shocked onlookers. The woman did not come back.
Emily x
