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One of my most favourite old books is falling apart. It is a small, leather bound, 1907 book-of-the- heart written by Elbert Hubbard called White Hyacinths. Before it eventually disintegrates I mean to frame the first page; it read: If

I confess that I’m really reluctant to put up the seven foot inflatable Santa – complete with motorcycle, sidecar and shades . It’s not that I don’t like him, I do, we all do, makes us laugh, but as anyone