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Winter
Looking out of the window I can see big lazy goosefeathers of snow. In half an hour my car has disappeared. Yesterday the view over to the North York Moors was leaden, the rain had big lumps and the wind was from the NNE and as cold as you like. I walked all round the farm and was glad to get back to a bowl of soup. My instincts tell me, Winter is here.
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Buvez toujours, mourrez jamais.
Rabelais
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