So the week before Christmas, there was a party with absent friends, and it made us sad and we all had private tears, but it helped us remember that spirits live on:
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check out those sexy feet:

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There was a river that had to be crossed sometime before Christmas Day:
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and Christmas lights in Loxton, starting with the Six White Boomers
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followed by magnificent cactus:
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and political statements.
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There was a hot trip home. Cricket on the radio

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and the choice of ice cream
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or chips.
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Willows and geraniums.
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The next morning, up at 4 am (is this the middle of the night, we’re the only ones up, will we get to the ferry in time…please, try to go back to sleep), followed by:

waves to be surfed;
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runs to be made;
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and egg whites whipped with a fork which led to forearms that couldn’t be moved.
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There was sitting that had to be done.
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Here is a sandwich made from white and wholemeal bread.
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And here is an evening shot, taken with a gin and tonic in hand.
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And now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a bathroom that needs to be scrubbed and a dead tree that has to come down (what with the housesitters and everything).
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