After faithfully protecting me from the ravages of 15 cruel winters my parka died of a broken zipper yesterday. I knew it was going but it, bravely, hung on until the worst of the cold weather was over and then it could zip up no longer.
Rita and Roger gave me that parka, for Christmas, the first year I was back in the cold country. It served me well. Now, I've got a few months to replace it before the next arctic invasion which will surely come.
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