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Real PeopleReal People

Real People

Issue 42 2019

Real People is a real-life title which delivers real-life stories, puzzles (and prizes) and affordable practical advice (food, fashion & beauty).

Страна:
United Kingdom
Язык:
English
Издатель:
Hearst Magazines UK
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this week in your fab value

What did we do before online shopping? Sometimes it’s hard to remember. But ‘going shopping’ used to be an actual outing, not just a quick flick through the phone like it is now. There are drawbacks to all that convenience, though. How can I hide my shopaholic binges, when the doorbell alerts The Husband to my sins? I’m rumbled every time. ‘MORE new shoes!?!’ the cry goes up. The man just doesn’t understand. It was so much easier when I simply used to smuggle them in… But what about the hardworking folk who bring all those shiny new purchases to our doors? Couriers have to contend with zero-hours contracts, impossible deadlines, the no-one’s home hell… and losing body parts. Yes, really. You can read all about it on p12, where Nicola…

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our mad world!

Cute TOT GREEN GODDESS! Here’s my little one, Evie, getting to grips with one of her five a day. By the look on her face, I’m not sure she’s that keen, though. Amanda Hadley, Cradley Heath, West Midlands UK What happens if you advertise on Google a faggot dinner at your café, Fanny’s? Jo Evans-Pring, 63, from Newport knows exactly what – they ban you and your delicious meatballs. ‘I’m startled by what’s happened,’ she says. MINE’S A PINT! Nancy Drew and her owner, Jason Smith, are regulars at their Tewkesbury boozer, enjoying a daily tipple. Nancy is a slow drinker but, being so popular with the locals, never has to shell out for a round! LEAF IT OUT Be dazzled by the best autumn colours in the UK • Faskally Wood, Perthshire • Lime Avenue, Marbury Country Park, Cheshire • New…

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soap on a rope

Work yourself into a lather with our sneak peek at what’s soon to be bubbling over and under in your fave shows… WEEK COMMENCING 21 Oct EastEnders The pressure of keeping his dirty work for Ben a secret becomes too much for Martin and he ends up confiding in Kush. The dynamic duo decide they need to confront bad boy Ben, thinking he’ll simply back off. Blam! That’s not how it works. Ben’s having none of it so Martin’s forced to go to plan B, which is pretty much as successful as plan A, except now Ben’s angry, vengeful and super-keen to show Martin that the Mitchell’s are not to be messed with. Boom! Doh. Elsewhere… Things get complicated when Jay’s asked to arrange a huge funeral for a client and the man in…

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power of eight

Landscape rolled by the coach window, as beside me my boyfriend, Garry, dozed. Trees, fields, houses, shops… I gazed out at it all, fighting the urge to yell, ‘Stop the bus!’ With every mile we crossed, every mile closer to Edinburgh, I was travelling back in time. Back to wet, oppressive kisses on my baby skin… To the creak of a door and a weight on my mattress long after lights out and tucking in. To my uncle Andy Temple whispering he loved me as he raped me, saying this was what men and women who loved each other do. I’d only been eight, and I’d loved him, yes. The monster had taken advantage of it. The abuse had only stopped when I was 13 and my family moved two-and-a-half hours away from him. Yet here…

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monster will see you now

I sat on damp sand, started popping the pills from their blister pack, swilling them down with White Lightning cider. ‘I’m coming, Auntie Linda,’ I thought. ‘I’m so sorry I lied.’ Waves crashed around me and the wind caught my tears. ‘You won’t touch me again, Andy,’ I yelled into the gusts. And soon, I blacked out. Then some time later… ‘She’s awake.’ For a moment, I’d forgotten. Then my eyes opened on a hospital room and Mum’s terrified face. It hadn’t worked. ‘Sweetheart, you’re in hospital,’ Dad said. No – hell. I was still in hell. I was on oxygen, had a drip in my arm. I was yellow with jaundice – the overdose had hurt my liver. ‘You were airlifted here,’ Mum sobbed. ‘Somebody found you, thank God.’ ‘Sorry,’ I croaked. ‘Don’t apologise,’ she urged. ‘I know you’ve…

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give the dog a bone

Arms laden with packages, I wobbled up the path to a terraced house. ‘Come on, Ruby,’ I called as my 11-year-old skipped behind me, holding a parcel. Before I could knock, the front door swung open. ‘Morning, Nicola,’ a familiar face beamed. ‘The usual is it?’ I nodded, handing the parcels over to Sandra, 45. As a Hermes delivery driver, I made a visit to her next-door neighbour at least once a week, but not once had they answered the door! Today was no different. ‘And thank you, Ruby,’ Sandra winked, taking the package from my girl. ‘You’re the best delivery girl in Swinton.’ Back in the van, we drove a few streets away where another doorbell went unanswered – I reckoned Jehovah's Witnesses had better luck on the doorstep! ‘Would you like to do…

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