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  • Thank heavens for the Barrister.
    At my call of need,
    he was on the end of the line,
    the web,
    the keyboard,
    through the storm.

    He took me dinner the following week.
    A break from life in the Sevenoaks lane,
    if only the gorgeous Lewis Hamilton was in tow,
    and space to breathe.

    We ate fish at The French Man and Green Horn.
    Drank liquid gold,
    sparkling of course,
    and toasted
    the end of the crap weather.
    Because it had been just that,

    I am grateful for this faithful friend,
    and for meeting him
    a year ago
    at The White Room Supper Club,
    run by a charming Scandinavian lady,
    who went on to cook in the pop-up Olympic tent,
    making a true name for herself.
    Oh, the people you meet in life.
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