That was when warm air would rise and the gas - hydrogen sulphide, heavier than air - would roll on down the hill to his pretty farmhouse as if heralding the arrival of some demon in a horror movie.
Then the smell would overpower them. The headaches and sickness would begin, the nausea and dizziness.
And, over and over again, Jeff and his wife Lesley would scoop up their little children, Brooklyn, then aged five, and Jackson, four, and, in Jeff's words, get the hell out of there, far enough away as to be able to breathe. More...
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- A visit to Mumbai's Crawford meat market...
- Thanksgiving? Not for the turkeys. How can this kind of cruelty go on in a "civilised" nation?
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