“Rag and bone!” he yelled. You could hear him coming from streets away.

We watched him pass, a bunch of scruffy kids with huge eyes.

His horse plodded down the cobbled street, careful not to slip on the damp stones. He pulled a flatbed dray, piled high with assorted brick-a-brack.

We weren’t sure what the Rag’n’bone-man did with his hoard of used clothes and mouldy old bones, but we were confident he had a cunning plan up his sleeve. He probably was making a fortune.

We loved to see his horse clip-clopping along, and wondered why he gave out goldfish?

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