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Pleasant Pastures in Perivale and Mad Marauding Muntjacs

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: The opening lines of John Keats’ “Ode to a Nightingale”   Don’t the above words just fill you with foreboding? I’d recently taken […]

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