scribblesbyzoe.blogspot.com

Scribbles by Zoe

Saturday, 30 August 2014. A Woman Not Like Me. I was seven years old when my mother died. It happened very suddenly: one day she was there telling me to Sort Out My Room, and the next day she was gone. He gave me the box just after my eighteenth birthday and I opened it with trembling hands. All I have that is left of my mother is one emerald engagement ring, two of her favourite books and a photo of a woman who looks like me but is not me. A woman I will never understand. Saturday, 19 April 2014. He was...

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Scribbles by Zoe | scribblesbyzoe.blogspot.com Reviews

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Saturday, 30 August 2014. A Woman Not Like Me. I was seven years old when my mother died. It happened very suddenly: one day she was there telling me to Sort Out My Room, and the next day she was gone. He gave me the box just after my eighteenth birthday and I opened it with trembling hands. All I have that is left of my mother is one emerald engagement ring, two of her favourite books and a photo of a woman who looks like me but is not me. A woman I will never understand. Saturday, 19 April 2014. He was...

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Scribbles by Zoe | scribblesbyzoe.blogspot.com Reviews

https://scribblesbyzoe.blogspot.com

Saturday, 30 August 2014. A Woman Not Like Me. I was seven years old when my mother died. It happened very suddenly: one day she was there telling me to Sort Out My Room, and the next day she was gone. He gave me the box just after my eighteenth birthday and I opened it with trembling hands. All I have that is left of my mother is one emerald engagement ring, two of her favourite books and a photo of a woman who looks like me but is not me. A woman I will never understand. Saturday, 19 April 2014. He was...

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scribblesbyzoe.blogspot.com

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Scribbles by Zoe: August 2014

http://scribblesbyzoe.blogspot.com/2014_08_01_archive.html

Saturday, 30 August 2014. A Woman Not Like Me. I was seven years old when my mother died. It happened very suddenly: one day she was there telling me to Sort Out My Room, and the next day she was gone. He gave me the box just after my eighteenth birthday and I opened it with trembling hands. All I have that is left of my mother is one emerald engagement ring, two of her favourite books and a photo of a woman who looks like me but is not me. A woman I will never understand. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom).

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Scribbles by Zoe: A Woman Not Like Me

http://scribblesbyzoe.blogspot.com/2014/08/a-woman-not-like-me.html

Saturday, 30 August 2014. A Woman Not Like Me. I was seven years old when my mother died. It happened very suddenly: one day she was there telling me to Sort Out My Room, and the next day she was gone. He gave me the box just after my eighteenth birthday and I opened it with trembling hands. All I have that is left of my mother is one emerald engagement ring, two of her favourite books and a photo of a woman who looks like me but is not me. A woman I will never understand. View my complete profile.

3

Scribbles by Zoe: April 2014

http://scribblesbyzoe.blogspot.com/2014_04_01_archive.html

Saturday, 19 April 2014. Once upon a time, in a land not too far from here, there lived a gizzlegoarder. He was the biggest, ugliest and scariest gizzlegoarder born in centuries, and all of the wizgoos were terrified of him. Except Humphrey, of course, but then again Humphrey was too lazy to be terrified of anything. Humphrey tried to hit the snooze button again but the buzzing noise didn’t stop. And what was that awful. 8216;WILL YOU QUIT THAT RACKET! 8217; he yelled. The gizzlegoarder froze, mid-stamp,...

4

Scribbles by Zoe: Indian road rules

http://scribblesbyzoe.blogspot.com/2014/03/i-am-writing-this-blog-from-back-of.html

Thursday, 20 March 2014. I am writing this blog from the back of a taxi, where I have been stuck for the past two hours in the stupidest traffic jam I have ever witnessed. The ridiculousness of my current bumper to bumper situation has triggered a few thoughts about the intricacies of Indian road rules:. 1 Your horn is the most important part of your vehicle. Beep it continuously so trucks know you're undertaking them and motorbikes are aware you're going to flatten them at high speed. 7 If you are stopp...

5

Scribbles by Zoe: Wizgoo on Toast

http://scribblesbyzoe.blogspot.com/2014/04/wizgoo-on-toast.html

Saturday, 19 April 2014. Once upon a time, in a land not too far from here, there lived a gizzlegoarder. He was the biggest, ugliest and scariest gizzlegoarder born in centuries, and all of the wizgoos were terrified of him. Except Humphrey, of course, but then again Humphrey was too lazy to be terrified of anything. Humphrey tried to hit the snooze button again but the buzzing noise didn’t stop. And what was that awful. 8216;WILL YOU QUIT THAT RACKET! 8217; he yelled. The gizzlegoarder froze, mid-stamp,...

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Saturday, 30 August 2014. A Woman Not Like Me. I was seven years old when my mother died. It happened very suddenly: one day she was there telling me to Sort Out My Room, and the next day she was gone. He gave me the box just after my eighteenth birthday and I opened it with trembling hands. All I have that is left of my mother is one emerald engagement ring, two of her favourite books and a photo of a woman who looks like me but is not me. A woman I will never understand. Saturday, 19 April 2014. He was...

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