Richard Frost - Manchester I'd forgotten how cold it gets in Manchester. Or maybe I just preferred not to remember. After 6 months living it up in South America, we've arrived back in the UK wholly unprepared for the ice-cold chill that greets us. In retrospect, it was probably a mistake to go straight from Rio de Janeiro to Manchester. More than that, to go straight from Brazilian summertime to British wintertime - a 30-degree temperature difference. But even though I'm shivering like no-one's business, at least I can comfort myself with the memory of being roasting hot on Copacabana beach. And even though I don't have a job anymore, and I'm crashing on friends' floors till we find somewhere to live, at least I can comfort myself with the memory of what we achieved. Like
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