The Things We Write
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29th February 2024
Dear Friends
Summer departs suddenly this year, the last remnants of September’s warmth vanishing under a heavy curtain of rain. When Sarah emerges from the tube at Chancery Lane, icy pellets pummel her hair and soak her cardigan. The hovering storm casts the city into unwelcome shadow. Some people claim to love autumn – cosy knitwear, crackling log fires, pumpkin patches, fireworks smoking the air. Sarah is not one of them.