It rumbles all around, like thunder.

August 4th, 2013, 11pm

It was 14.4°C with broken clouds. The breeze was gentle.

Nushka, in the crook of my arm, purrs in a low, rollicking tone. Adam (and I’m in the crook of his arm) snores urgently and rhythmically. A few too many nips of the highland scotch?

David Wade said thanks.

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Jane Francis

Twit twit twit Jug jug jug jug jug jug

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