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10 Jan 2:00am

When it’s cold and wet, nothing beats the smug snugness of being inside

The Guardian
I love the bouncing of hailstones off sitting room windowpanes, muffled by curtains drawn against the winter dark It’s a memory from many of our childhoods: tucked up cosily in sleeping bags, safely inside tents, the patter of heavy rain against canvas overhead. I think it remains one of my favourite sounds. That, along with trees rustling in the wind; the thwacks and clinks and clonks of sports (
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