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If there's one thing that drove me out of London,
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it's the way I can't enter a room
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without all the little women instantly cleaving to their men
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as though to say, "Hands off!"
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And then hating me all the more
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when they realise I have no use for their treasured rubbish.
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No more he and she for me.
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I owe it to myself to be fair to Christopher.
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He's up in Yorkshire again, seeing Michael.
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The move to Gray's Inn has been a success.
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He knows his stuff with furniture and pictures.
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He'll walk into a saleroom