At Christmas last year, Cathy Wood’s family home in Manchester was disturbingly quiet. Her daughters, 19 and 21, were revising for exams. She says she and her husband “hardly saw anything of them…I was a bit fed up.” Bored and frustrated, she bought a 45kg bunch of secondhand clothes, without knowing what she was going to do with it.

Wood, a former teacher of English, has always loved clothes. At university, Wood hung out with the fashion students and sewed her own new romantic outfits. Wood, now 62, enjoyed shopping for vintage (老款) clothing and had even discussed getting a shop with a friend, but the rents put them off. A week or so after the bunch arrived, she booked a stall (货摊) at West Didsbury Makers Market.

Standing at her first market stall was a wholly new experience though. “It was very different from teaching. You need just the right amount of contact with people.” Wood sold four pieces at her first market, which paid for the stall and left a small surplus (盈余). Now, she sometimes returns home with 30 empty coat hangers. But it was the contact with customers and fellow traders that she found most rewarding. “It’s a lovely environment. You chat and get to know each other. I really enjoyed it.” she says.

Sometimes, in quiet moments on the stall, she takes out her mending and thinks of her mother and grandmother. “My grandmother taught art and crafts, and both she and my mother spent a lot of time with the sewing machine, teaching me to sew,” “What these clothes do is transport me back to different times when things were easier for me. They give me a pleasurable feeling. Nostalgia (怀旧) can be a good thing in that way.”

After she stopped teaching, she “started to feel like a non person”, she says. The market stall “has given me status in my own mind to be part of the community, contributing something, to be somebody people talk to, somebody people smile at.”

Brad closed the door slowly as Sue left home to visit her mother. Expecting a whole day to relax, he was thinking whether to read the newspaper or watch his favorite TV talk show on his first day off in months. “This will be quite easy, just like a walk in the park,” he’d told his wife. “I’ll look after the kids well, and you can go to visit your mom.”

Things started well, but just after eight o’clock, his three little “good kids” — Mike, Randy, and Alex — came down the stairs in their night clothes and shouted “Breakfast, Daddy.” When food had not appeared within thirty seconds, Randy began using his spoon on Alex’s head as if it were a drum (鼓). Alex started to shout loudly in time to the beat (节拍). Mike chanted (咏唱) “Where’s my toast, where’s my toast” in the background. Brad realized his newspaper would have to wait for a few seconds.

Life became worse after breakfast. Mike wore Randy’s underwear on his head. Randy locked himself in the bathroom, while Alex shouted again because he was going to wet his pants. Nobody could find clean socks, although they were just before their eyes. Someone named “Not Me” had spilled a whole glass of orange juice into the basket of clean clothes. Brad knew the talk show had already started.

By ten o’clock, things were out of control. Alex was wondering why the fish in the jar refused his bread and butter. Mike was trying to show off his talent by decorating the kitchen wall with his color pencils. Randy, thankfully, appeared to be reading quietly in the family room, but closer examination showed that he was eating apple jam straight from the bottle with his hands. Brad realized that the talk show was over and reading would be impossible.

At exactly 11:17, Brad called the daycare centre. “I suddenly have to go into work and my wife is away. Can I bring the boys over in a few minutes?” The answer was obviously “yes” because Brad was smiling.

During the 1930s, the Great War broke out. A 25-year-old American soldier, probably never thought that his life would change forever when he volunteered to go to France.

One night while the American unit was returning to the base after a bloody fight, Suleyman stumbled(绊倒) into the ground and noticed a bit of movement from the bush. Being stuck between two choices either its enemy or an animal, Suleyman found a five-year old girl from the bushes shivering(颤抖) with cold and utmost（极度的） fear. Due to the atrocity of the war, the girl was abandoned by her family and the whole village was killed.

During the war, it was impossible to find the child’s family so Suleyman took this little French girl under his wings and gave her an American name Flora which means like the flower. Soon, Flora became the apple of the eye of everyone living in the army camp.

For one and a half years, Flora and Suleyman became inseparable; however, every fairy tale comes to an end. When the war ended, Suleyman was sent back to USA, while Flora was put in an orphanage (孤儿院), the Normandy School, which was founded by the American government for orphaned French children to have an education.

For years, Suleyman always thought about Flora. When the French National Olympic Team was playing in the Summer Olympics in Los Angeles in 1984, Suleyman gazed（凝视） through the audience on TV, hoping to catch a glimpse of（瞥见） Flora, but he never could.

At the age of 85, Suleyman attended the 60th anniversary reception of the Great War where Suleyman shared his story with American and French officials. After hearing his story, a French journalist started to investigate（调查） the story, and all government files were read in detail. The moment the journalist helped dial the number, in tears, Flora said Suleyman was her hero, and everything came flooding back to her.