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November 14, 2009

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I once wrote: "There is no light warmer or more alienating than someone else's kitchen at night." While that might be
true for the most part, it wasn't the case here. Jesse and I had just spent a lovely slightly sodden evening listening to
LPs and 78s Rob Millis recently brought back from Europe and it was simply time to catch the last homeward #5 bus.
We departed through the midnight garden, a touch furtively, as if leaving an old speakeasy, away down a gravel alley.