Shirl had never been in love before. It’s not like there hadn’t been any other men – there had been Graham James with the perpetual limp, Stuart Cobbs who ran the local Indian takeout ‘Cobbs Corma’, syphilitic Gary and various others – but Shirl never felt she could truly love a person who had had syphilis and didn’t tell her straight away. Those men had been little more than moments in her life.  Continue reading →