There is little I enjoy more of an evening than grabbing a seductive bottle of Tempranillo or Malbec, and with that in one hand and an over-large wine glass in the other, I tiptoe my way up creaking stairs to the sanctuary of my bedroom. Kicking off my heels I curl myself up in my Lloyd Loom chair and settle in as dusk's purple hues weave and merge amongst the gathering gloom. Settled
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