Saturday, March 18, 2006

Tales From A Riverbank

It had been minus four degrees centigrade the night before. Hidden in some bushes was some clothes and a half full, blue, litre bottle of cider. The Sun had turned the previously frozen ground into a quagmire. Of the sleeper there was no sign but his sleeping bag was coated in mud. Just behind the tower there is a sign that welcomes visitors to NORWICH A FINE CITY.

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