[England is sitting a short way away from the house, knitting needles in hand and looking immensely focussed on what he's doing. There's a pile of yellow yarn next to him, and he's knitting what looks to be a rope with intermittent globes dangling from it. He mutters to himself as he works. As usual, Whitby the Golbat is curled up against his chest
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I'm glad that you think so. I'm rather fond of them.
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They are rather lovely. Did you make it all on your own, too?
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