Hah. So. Here I am. It's six in the morning, and I've got the whole big, windy country to myself. All its hills and motorways, and the valleys and the high rises. All asleep, quiescent in the bird-noisy grey of predawn. Red lights on the pylons still, and the whirr of the milk-freight, and it all belongs to the few still awake. A living picture of
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