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Surprise Visitorjingling charity boxFather Christmasin the pub
CS Lewis, It's All Your FaultSo, here I am in a clone motel on the edge of an industrial town. The room is comfortable, but impersonal, soulless. In an attempt to bring some feeling of home, I hang the little stone wolf on its leather thonging from the mirror as I shave in preparation for the day ahead. A day that will be spent in a dimly lit warehouse watching numbers scroll on the screen as the clatters and roars of industrial ovens and shakers fill the air.Thank goodness then, for that hour between work and darkness, a time to explore the roads and paths that lead away from the hotel. Maybe to the ruined abbey across the fields, whose grounds will be closed for the day by the time I arrive, or across the interchange to the wooded paths of the nature reserve.Today I take the road to the harbour where the lights of the power station shimmer on the grey, surging waters and the great ocean liners bellow a challenge to the lines of geese that straggle south across the sky. Before the light fades, I fill the compan
Vnnnn....falling leaves -the young jediwith his broom