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Friday evening. I do love a Friday evening. Well, if I am honest, I love certain Friday evenings. The ones where I am sat in queues on the M25, M3 and A303 as we head West are not that thrilling; it is the thought of what lies ahead the following day that keeps me going. Waking up in that dinky little thatched cottage, Gertrude Jekyll roses blooming round the eyebrow window, the promise of a day vintage treasure seeking in Bridders. That's what it is. Friday evenings like todays, I'm rather…

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