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Wedgwood Day




It was a Wedgwood day, with white coulds delicately modelled in relief against a sky of pale pure blue.  The best of England, thought Mrs. Miniver, as opposed to countries with reasonable climates, is that it is not only once a year that you can say, 'This is the first day of spring.'  She had already said it twice since Christmas~ once in Janurary, when they had driven across the Marsh to the sea and it had been warm enough to lie on the sand without a coat; and once in February, when she had taken the children for a lunch picnic in Kensington Gardens.  The grass had been scattered with twigs from the previous night's gale, and by the next afternoon it was snowing: but while it lasted that day had been part of the authentic currency of spring~ a stray coin tossed down carelessly on account.~~Mrs. Miniver by Jan Struther


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