A caustic chill is brewing in the air. A fortnight ago Dave and I were cruising through our local farmers market in shorts and a tan. We went to sleep one night and awoke in a spectacularly frozen stupor. Wrapped in thermals, gloves, beanies and knee-high waterproof boots, our morning stroll through Central Park has transmuted into an epic battle against the harshest elements. I think I might be to blame. After 3 days of roadtripping through frostbitten French Canada, the Miller-King family and I farewelled boring Montreal (with gigantic smiles), lost a passenger (Robot) and inadvertent
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