....Oh! Yet
Stands the church clock at ten to three
and is there honey still for tea?
The end of Rupert Brookes rather odd poem springs to mind as the time is frozen here - took this morning as the clock struck nine.
It's drizzling and misty...
But some good news - Maire re-opens as does the dump!
Yesterdays delight was breakfast with Louise and Norbert. After this long break this became almost sacramental.
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