Grace and Terry were not the only ones eating fish and chips that night, albeit in considerably less salubrious surroundings. Fred Burbage rented a small one-bedroom apartment in one of the old converted warehouses.
It was accessed by a central staircase, there was a bedroom and bathroom on one floor whilst an internal staircase led to a small kitchen, dining and living space. He unwrapped his fish and chips, salted and then liberally doused them in vinegar from a plastic bottle and without removing them from the wrapping, put them on a plate and ate them with his fingers whilst watching the news.
Donald Trump was making an arse of himself over something or other, there had been military coup in an African country he had never heard of, a train derailment in Mumbai had killed more tha
