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As I sit here at home, fingers cold and typing, I find myself staring out of the window, past bare, skeletal trees and into grim, grey depths of nothingness. A little bleak? Well, I think we’re all in agreement that winter has long outstayed its welcome. Perpetual snow showers and icy, bitter winds are trying our collective patience. Yet I can still dream of the springtime (it will come, it categorically has to) and in these dreams, what best conjures hope? Bright sunshine, sprawling lawns, fountains, gardens and a big old country house to get lost in, of course...
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