London’s spiry turrets rise. / Think of its crimes, its cares, its pain, / Then shield me in the woods again.
James Thomson (1914-1953)
London’s spiry turrets rise. / Think of its crimes, its cares, its pain, / Then shield me in the woods again.
James Thomson (1914-1953)
CabbieBlog 
Perhaps that’s why I moved away to a place with a woodland just across the road? James may have been correct.
Best wishes, Pete.
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Yes I couldn’t live in central London.
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