<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Freelybound on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/authors/freelybound/</link><description>Recent content in Freelybound on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Tue, 10 Jun 2008 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/authors/freelybound/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Hot Summer</title><link>/stories/2008/06/10/hot-summer/</link><pubDate>Tue, 10 Jun 2008 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2008/06/10/hot-summer/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Long have been the summer days of late. Hot, with a threat of thunderstorms in the distant. The heat of the day had long gone down by the time that I ventured back home after a long day working. Having parked by the side of our cottage; I sat back in the seat of my car I give myself a moment after the long journey home. My wife had always loved the old country cottage ever since the day’s when she had lived nearby as a little girl. She once said that she had always wished that she could have seen the cottage from the inside. (I say cottage in jest really. In real terms; the building was a big farm cottage that had number of farm buildings attached. We had the buildings converted as part of the house over time)&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>