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Poetry performers come from far and wide

By Matthew Corrigan on Wednesday, 03 January, 2018

A blanket of bleak midwinter fog fell across Marple on the eve of the shortest day. With the lights of the Market Street Christmas trees reduced to a faint, subdued glow, a definite Dickensian atmosphere was discernible. It was all too easy to imagine one could hear the rattling of spectral chains, as though Jacob Marley himself were out there, wandering somewhere in the gloom.

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