All memories faded from years of over heard conversations. Now a home to wandering animals, shelter from the wind and rain, and the frozen fragments of snow. Only use now is as fire wood. Thrown on an old log fire in blistering cold winters to heat up the homes of happy families. Where times are hard, and the men work until dark out in the gusty winds to come home to the mouthwatering smell of food, to sit by a crackling fire with their boots off, and family around them. Cold winter days are a time of festivities, where children run around in frightening outfits demanding sweets. Or the sound of high pitched squealing followed by a ear splitting bang that releases thousands of brightly coloured lights sprinkled all over the velvet midnight black sky. A bonfire stands proud and majestic in the middle of a crowded field, for all to look at and embrace the warmth, making little cheeks rosy red. Sticky toffee apples, fudge and treacle being eaten with difficulty by wide eyed children dressed in woolly hats, gloves and scarves. All but a few wearing brightly coloured wellies, as they trudge through the muddy grass enjoying the night time delights of winter.
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