Until my mid 20s I loved doing jigsaw puzzles. It was an act which baffled my sister. She would wander into the living room at Christmas to find me sifting through pieces, sorting them into piles, as Midsomer Murders played on the telly. “It’s a con!” she would yell, hoping to make me see the light. “They took a nice picture, ruined it by chopping it up, and now you’re PAYING THEM to allow you to put it back together WORSE than before.”
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