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Remember, remember

Unsuccesful tweet from last night: Standing on top of Primrose Hill, watching lit up City skyline and distant fireworks.

I am historically a hater of October, while the crisp clarity of November seems just like one long invitation to alternate long walks with extensive curlings-up in bed with tea.

I find myself hoping there will be snow again this year. To replay childhood scenes of the Old Country - wherein I go to bed to sharp air and icicles of stars, and wake to a different world.

*******

One of my first memories of London is of November and bonfire night on Muswell Hill. I was there with my cousin and uncle. It was cold, and I had no idea what was happening or what we were supposed to be doing. I remember a crowd of people and the fire though, and how I thought they had lit this bonfire because it was so cold and being equal measures shocked and pleased that you could vandalise public parks like that.

My other memory is of my cousin saying how it took him ages to learn to stop being bothered by the sound of squeeling black cab brakes. The moment he said it I heard them too, and for days afterwards they seemed inescapable. The air was filled with them. A long screech like a cross between a cat's miaow and nails on a chalkboard.

I remember it took me ages to stop hearing it after that.

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rainsinger
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