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I wanted to live abroad flex belt arms amazon A tale of two public services: in late December 2011, I took a bus to a street in Barnet, north London, and stood in a long queue with strangers, clutching a red and white postcard in my hand. I had a fair time to wait before my turn, long enough to remember – damnation – that I’d forgotten to bring proof of identity with me, as the postcard’s small type insisted I should. When it was my turn, I said, hopelessly: “I don’t suppose I can collect my parcel…”

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