So now the story can be told; now the cat, unlike Erwin Schrödinger's theoretical subject, can exit the bag. Our hunt for a home of our own has produced its first kill. But it's not a zebra's head adorning the wall of my (increasingly) metaphorical study. No, the thing which met its maker was our dream of a nice house on a hill overlooking London. Sadly, some cash-rich prospector outbid us. So now we sit gazing at the walls in our (admittedly lovely) rental...
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