The day was Valentine's, 2003. I had just arrived in London on a working holiday visa. Having located my one and only contact in that grandest of grand cities, I found myself in Bayswater at a backpackers' hostel. Feeling lonely and in need of a comforting reminder of home, I was relieved when my brother's ex-girlfriend agreed to catch up for a drink. And so, on that famously romantic day, where Cupid is out and ready to strike when you least expect it, I arrived at Hyde Park Hostel unaware that my life was about to change forever. It was the boy who greeted me at the door and informed me ...
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