Quote:
Originally Posted by issybird
Here it is:
It was on the afternoon of the Christmas Eve, and I was in Mrs. Prothero's garden, waiting for cats, with her son Jim. It was snowing. It was always snowing at Christmas. December, in my memory, is white as Lapland, though there were no reindeers.
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The mention of Mrs. Prothero and the cats was enough for me. Unless there is a great coincidence occurring here this is from
A Child's Christmas in Wales by Dylan Thomas