Oh to be here.
Supposed to be sunny according to the weatherman, but it’s not exactly working out like that. Snuggled up and safe halfway up an extended living apartment tower with roast beef and Yorkshire pudding for dinner with gravy drowned in either port or madeira depending on what the bartenders from the wedding hall next door have left over from their receptions that the Brahmin bankers with their darling accents always knock off a few bottles of something at.
The rest is at this link: https://sarahbguestperry.substack.com/p/january-1967-four-in-the-afternoon





























