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You left me standing opposite Rotherham Minster with a flat white (Derbyshire : “picnic”) in my hand, with about 20 minutes to go till I picked up something essential for Mrs RM. There was no one about, bar an old chap perched on a seat 20 yards away with his takeaway coffee (probably a latte,… Continue reading TREES GROWING OUT OF DEAD PUBS IN ROTHERHAM*SPECIAL
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