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MORNING TEA Filling kettle from the square tank, scattering cats as buckets splash across the yard. Set on stove hissing black in the kitchen out the back; wouldn't burn the whole house down if the timbers took. Teapot warm in cosy; dough rising in surprising places. Sitting on a cottage loaf yeasty cushion flattened laughter violins and basses to the fire's static crackle. Pouring out dark brown tea ...