<?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>Clockwork on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/tags/clockwork/</link><description>Recent content in Clockwork on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sat, 14 Jul 2018 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/tags/clockwork/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>House of Dolls</title><link>/stories/2018/07/14/house-of-dolls/</link><pubDate>Sat, 14 Jul 2018 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2018/07/14/house-of-dolls/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;The sign ‘Welcome to England’ had greeted Bronwyn Harper as
she had driven her hire car out of Heathrow Airport that morning, and
even now she could only smile at remembering that sign. She hadn’t
seen much of a welcome so far on this typical spring Sunday in England
if she was being honest. In other words, it had rained incessantly all
day, and even now, by five in the afternoon the light was beginning to
disappear from the grey, leaden skies. And thanks to a delayed flight,
and a lengthy passage through immigration she was still 80 miles or so
from her destination, somewhere in Wiltshire if the signs were to be
believed.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>