Going home

I was up at dawn this morning, and here’s the proof:

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Early-morning deer-stalking:

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followed by the train to London, which is absolutely not the place to be on one of the hottest-ever September days. However on a walk between Euston and Mortimer Road in an unsuccessful attempt to find a new bar bag, my disappointment and discomfort were lessened by joining in a quick burst of “Les amoureux qui s’bécotent sur les bancs publics” and by an old sign:

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