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You would create a roundabout in a boring new town as a henge too, if you had my opportunities. Align the trees, signs and roads to sit just so at the solstice dawn. You, though, might not admit what you'd done, publicly, at a council meeting – I did.
Finding the morning traffic impeded by a roundabout filled with druids, Chief Constable phones Mayor, phones me. All to express their manifest dissatisfaction, in a most unenlightened way.
Had he just fired me? It was hard to hear him clearly among the throng. I would call back later, well after sunrise...

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