Monday, December 19, 2011

the spoilsport sort

I have long been the spoilsport sort
who isn't interested in going to Graceland while I live
or to Heaven when I die,
who gets tired of the Christmas tree  
after a few days
and would prefer a large pot of hyacinths.

But it is good to live with a household of people
who are enchanted by the fairy lights, 
swathing themselves in wrapping paper,
inventing chestnut roasting devices, 
and constantly counting how many sleeps till Christmas -
Six! Only six!

And it is also good to be here among you bloggers,
you who so zealously,
so admirably,
are baking mince pies,
the good ones with suet
and the good ones without suet,
sewing miles of red and gold bunting,
applying glitter to everything in sight,
stalking the robin for your snowy image,
adding the last jelly to the gingerbread house,
and mulling batch after batch of wine
to get the ratio of cloves to sugar just so.
Yes, I'll sample a glass. Sure, why not?
Thank you, bloggers.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

a sad day for the Lead Rabbit

The tearing winds flung so much salt from the sea up against our windows during that latest storm that we can barely see out.

Indeed, we can't go out either, as Pink Daughter is poorly and staying in bed.  She was to be the Lead Rabbit in tonight's school play, but some other rabbit will be first to the lettuce-field instead.

[angel, not relevant to rabbit]

It's a sad day for a six year old who had memorized everyone's lines and schemed long and hard to be allocated the best ears, who is peering feebly through the salted white windowpanes at the headlights making their way west: carloads of unfeverish rabbits and their proud parents heading for the parish-hall stage, and glory.

"Life will yield many opportunities to be the Lead Rabbit," I assure her, but she is not convinced.

Friday, December 9, 2011

an illustrated gift guide

I'm honoured to feature today in Shell Sherree's series of illustrated What I'd Like for Christmas Gift Guides.

Shell, whose enchanting drawings exist at the point where the worlds of Audrey Hepburn and PG Wodehouse meet, has been my comrade almost since first I tentatively tinkled a vintage silver fork against my crystal glass here in Blogtopia.  She does the colour pink justice like none other while never neglecting the other important pastels, and her lightness of touch with words always elicits a smile.

[click here for a larger version and links to all the items]

Vicki Archer was the first person to get the benefit of Shell's gentle idealism with her choice of gifts, then came me (Me!)...

[Me (Me!)]

... and I'm eager to see who will be next.  You'll be rushing off now, I know, to see where you can buy that dainty little milk-pan, but do take a moment first to say hello to Shell and admire her Tom Ford frock.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

a Hidden Hurt

I was tweaking a wonky quatrain in a newly composed Blogtopian poem in which I hint at a Hidden Hurt when the phone rang.

It was X, wondering what progress I'd made with her present and why I'd unfriended her on Facebook.

"In fact," I told her, "that was another X, as I have two best friends, but the present I haven't got for you yet is even better, albeit undeliverable."

It's true. The French company from which I ordered it got in touch yesterday to say that my address doesn't exist. This came as a blow to me, as I've lived here for six years and received packages from all over the world in that time, including several incredible giveaway wins and, only last week, a Lifetime Achievement Award all the way from the Taiwanese High Consulate, as I told France vehemently.

And I hadn't unfriended X, but rather deleted my account on Facebook during the summer. You should see the great peace that has descended on me since then, no longer in the thick of things, unaware of everyone's sprightly activities unless they themselves tell me about them.  I've ceased to be pressured into Liking everything and can revert to my sullen self, not liking most things very much, except, as ever, your lovely hairstyle.

So that leaves X with little prospect of a present from me, down from 367 to 366 in the all-important number of dear Facebook friends, and forced to listen to the Blogtopian poem in which I hint at a Hidden Hurt.   "It's not hidden enough," she said. Who can blame her?

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

your Christmas present

I was hoping to have purchased your Christmas present by now. It was to be such an organised year, with everything chosen and wrapped by the end of November so that I could sit around with the decanter and cheeseboard in December instead of trampling out into the good cheer.

[ginger heart, blue icing; 2011]

But town was dispiriting on Friday. Clothes shops full of synthetic party-wear crackled as I walked past. Plastic toys in non-pastel colours made loud noises. Stacked shelves of gift sets signified mankind's primeval need for two soaps, some talcum powder and a lilac wash-mitt.

I don't want to buy the disposable junk; I want to inflict my taste upon future generations. "Oh yes, our Great Great Aunt Mise gave us that sturdy cushion. It's very nice. She says we're mentioned in her will."

So I decided to shop online instead. I have my credit card beside me here, and any minute now I'll type  "present for my friend X and her lovely family" -"terrible tat" -"garish plastic" -"acrylic OR viscose OR polyester" +"exquisite" +"pass off as homemade" +"delivery to Ireland", and then I'll click on "I'm Feeling Lucky." I'm not Feeling Lucky, but one must put up a brave front.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

a modest sourdough

What a struggle it has been to get any work done this week. Meetings and moments of quiet reflection were constantly interrupted by the ping of imagined incoming emails from readers imploring me to share a photograph of my homemade sourdough bread.

Feed no shop-bought bread to progeny, battalion or beast
(Don John of Austria is measuring the yeast) 

Hesitantly, modestly, humbly, I do so.

At airports worldwide, illusory demands came plaintively through the Tannoy, seeking only a single close-up shot of the inside of the loaf, displayed, ideally, on a cheerful cottage-style pink tea towel.

Pause the ruin of Europe and be deaf unto its dread 
(Don John of Austria is buttering the bread)

Blushingly, I comply.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Moroccan painting - giveaway winner

One of the most terrible days of my life was when my sister won a cake. A prize in a spin-the-wheel parish raffle, it was fully iced and presented on one of those wildly glamorous disposable silver foil trays. I'm not sure, through the fog of years, but I think it might even have been a gateau, in an era when cakes were cakes and not yet gateaux.

I'm pleased that the random winner of the Moroccan painting giveaway is commentator number 12, Jane, who will get to choose her favourite one of Margaret Owen's Moroccan series.

To everyone else, I'm ever so sorry you didn't win with your lovely comments, but it would have been worse if you hadn't won a cake. Even now, 33 years later, I still have never won a cake.  

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Margaret Owen painting - giveaway reminder

"There are so many colours you'd think a parrot had flown into the room,
says one commentator in her evocative description of 
Margaret Owen's Moroccan paintings.

More paintings have been added to the series during the past week, 
and here are a few of those currently available.

If you haven't commented yet, you have about two more days to do so 
before we get organised and select a random winner, 
who will get to choose a painting.

and I wish you luck.

Friday, November 11, 2011

becoming that sort of person

So I was talking about yogurt, and still am, as I have further weighty thoughts on the matter.  I realise it's a niche area and I shan't mind at all if you hum or twirl your hair.

First, I have given up the electric yogurt maker, as yogurt-making on the range works just as well and generates a more holistic smugness.

Second, I don't see that there is a need to be fussy about heating the milk first; it seems to work just as well if you start with cold milk, and it cuts the preparation time down to one minute.  Is that terribly reckless?

Here's what I do now exactly: in a Bonne Maman jam jar (from a hot dishwasher, so that it is very clean), stir together one generous tablespoon of powdered milk, a tablespoon of nice yogurt and enough milk to almost fill the jar. Put on the lid and leave on a corner of the range overnight. In the morning, place the jar in the fridge.  Eat it later that day, or whenever suits, with fresh or cooked fruit stirred in, or jam.  The yogurt seems to keep nicely for at least 5 days (I've never managed to not eat it for longer than that.)

I hear that you can even sieve it through cheesecloth to make cheese; there's no stopping me now.  My sourdough bread is rising as I type. You will soon find me writing articles for the Guardian newspaper on how to live well on 72 pence a day, or seven good reasons to keep a pig.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

A Moroccan adventure and a giveaway - CLOSED

Artists Margaret Owen and Elizabeth Hutchinson are off to Morocco in March, for a drawing and painting adventure in Marrakesh. They'll be running a week-long workshop, Moroccan Sketchbook, at the famous Peacock Pavilions hotel. The schedule includes enticing talk of fresh local cuisine and cocktails, tours, explorations and outdoor movies. Perhaps you'd like to join them? Full details are in the trip brochure here.

Don't rush off to pack just yet, as Margaret, who blogs at Permanent Magenta, is kindly offering a Pretty Far West reader one of her Moroccan paintings to celebrate finalising the arrangements for the trip. My favourite is the tranquil and exotic Breakfast in Marrakesh below, but the winner will get to choose his or her own preferred painting from Margaret's vivid Moroccan series.
[Breakfast in Marrakesh, by Margaret Owen]

Click here to see the paintings currently available to choose from in her shop.

To enter the giveaway, leave a comment here. For a second entry, post about the giveaway on your own blog or website, and comment again to say you have done so.

Margaret tells me in passing that she has recently learned how to count up to ten in Irish. A haon, a dó, a trí, a ceathair, a cúig, a sé, a seacht, a hocht, a naoi, a deich. For a third entry, marvel suitably at this.

Ramsign giveaway winner

The winner of the classic enamel house number is commentator number 7, Sue of The Quince Tree, as chosen by dear reliable

If you're not Sue, that's not you and you are naturally inconsolable, facing into a bleak and signless future. Never mind. There'll be another giveaway coming along here in a few moments.  I really, really hope you'll win next time.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

bona fide commenting tip

[you will recall that every post must contain an image]

Scottish Husband doesn't read lifestyle blogs or heavyweight handbag analysis groups as I do; he prefers to participate in online discussions about the global economy and motorcycles. I tend not to pay much attention to anything he says on these subjects, but he looked up lately from composing something pithy and apposite about all-terrain approaches to fiscal government and shared what is surely a Top Commenting Tip:

It's important never to read the blog post on which you are commenting in order that you may maintain a high-level perspective on the matter. 

I know you would never do a thing like that.

Sunday, October 30, 2011

fancy pancakes

When the children come home from school, full of subtraction and the urgent need for a multi-compartment fairy pencil case such as their second-best friend Aisling has, they like to eat fancy pancakes. These are very easy to make and are a good Friday treat.

To make them, whizz up your usual pancake batter - I use 250 ml milk, 4 oz white or wholemeal flour and 1 egg.

Good fillings are raisins, chocolate chips or chopped glacé cherries (rinse off the syrup).  Get these ready in little bowls in advance.  It's best to sprinkle the fillings individually onto the pancakes as they cook rather than mix them into the batter; otherwise they tend to distribute unevenly.

[glimpse of the wonderful KitchenAid Blender, perfect for pancake-making]

Pour small pancakes (saucer-sized) into your pan. Once the first side is nearly cooked, sprinkle a little of your chosen filling on top. Give it another 30 seconds, flip over, cook lightly and flip onto a plate.

Children will clamour for all three fillings in one pancake; that works well too, as do Smarties. The panel of tasters here has demanded experimentation with hundreds & thousands or chocolate vermicelli during the mid-term break, so they have been added to the shopping list.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

giveaway: a classic enamel sign CLOSED

The kind people at Ramsign in Denmark got in touch to ask whether I'd like to offer a Pretty Far West reader one of their traditional enamel house number plaques. "Ah sure, why not?" I said to myself in my engagingly upbeat way, hoping that a little giveaway would bring some joy to Number 68 Cakestand Boulevard or wherever you live yourself.

The winner will get to select one of five different styles, up to a value of $99, and Ramsign will manufacture a number plaque of his or her choice.

The giveaway is open to readers anywhere: just leave a comment expressing interest.

For a second entry, post a link to the giveaway on your own blog or website and comment again, and put yourself down for a third entry if you've never quite got used to not living next door to Alice. 

Friday, October 21, 2011

one important thing

If I have learned one important thing during my time on Earth,
 it is this:

that smallish objects on surfaces should be grouped together 
on trays or other receptacles

so that they are not forlorn.  

Monday, October 17, 2011

no platform

Karen has pointed out that a blogger should have a platform.  How true, and how wise, and how speedily I rushed to write a conspicuously placed little sentence explaining what Pretty Far West is all about so that the busy reader knows what's what before she clicks briskly away.

It's all a sham, of course, as I don't have a platform, and merely want to talk about myself. Today, for instance, exhibit A is the pink ring Scottish Husband gave me to celebrate 10 years together, and exhibit B is a few of the many bracelets Pink Daughter has crocheted for me to match every possible outfit.

The sorry truth of the matter is, I suppose, that I am not even waiting for a train.

Thursday, October 13, 2011

cheese & spinach puffs

If you add some baby spinach leaves to the blender while making these delicious and easy cheese puffs, you get green cheese puffs.

They are very tasty indeed, and if you place them beside the most reserved person at your stylish drinks party, he or she will soon be deep in conversation with everyone who happens by about what they could be and whether it is safe to try one.

Indeed, by the end of the evening, he or she will probably be engaged to be married, and all because of you.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

the sliding shelf

I never was able for hearty people. I met such a person lately, and after she had told me hearty things in a hearty way I had to go home and seek reassurance in the sliding shelf of my bedside cabinet, so useless yet so beguiling.

[I thought it would be handy for cups of tea]

Days later, I still don't feel quite right. I worry that we'll just have to keep being cheerful, that I will be assigned a role, that it is a good cause and that everything will be for the best.  

[but it isn't]

I live in fear that someone will tweet at me.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Welsh Cakes

Warm welsh cakes are the sort of food to serve when your jolly house party returns from its bracing walk along the seashore, exclaiming that they think they saw a seal and also possibly Jeremy Irons only they aren't sure because he was wearing a trapper hat.  While they tread seaweed into your rugs, you can bustle authentically about the kitchen, having the occasional cherry soaked in sloe gin as you make these.

  • Make up your regular fruit scone mixture (I use 8 oz flour, some baking powder, 1 oz each of sugar and butter, an egg, and a splash of milk, along with some sultanas and glacé cherries)
  • Pat it down to 1 cm thick and cut into rounds

  • Fry on a heavy pan or directly on the hotplate of the range until both sides are golden and cooked. It is best to cook them slowly on a low heat so that their centres are fluffy and light.
From start to plate, they only take about fifteen minutes.

Monday, September 26, 2011

Internal Memorandum: Staffing

Following the recent expansion of the team, here's how the Pretty Far West staffing situation stands at the end of September, 2011:


Beatrice, my imaginary assistant, who fields the complaints

The outsourced commentators, who comment on other blogs on my behalf (24/7 bunker-based, meagerly recompensed, quality service)

Speccy the Mascot. She has brought us much good fortune, and it is safe to say that without her benign and alert presence Pretty Far West would not have become the International Juggernaut of Good Taste you see before you today.

Consultant Jar Filling Designer: the redoubtable Jacqueline. Note to HR: Jacqueline has filled jars tirelessly and with unfaltering grace.  Her loss at this stage would be one of cataclysmic proportions. Commission a short opera around this theme.

[how to store leftover paint in Blogtopia]

Senior Sofa Manager and VP of Shelving (non-stipendiary): Paula. To our considerable sadness, the lovely Paula moved to London earlier this year. Since her departure, our sofas have become utterly unmanageable.

Senior Senior Design Consultants. This position has recently been offered on a freelance executive consultancy basis to the Hattatts, glittering socialites, able raconteurs, and the latest darlings of the Blogtopian intellegentsia.  We hope their presence will bring a touch of continental flair to the team.

Junior Senior Design Consultant: Vacancy to be advertised once the Hattatts have taken up their duties.  Conceived as a fetching and carrying support role.

Vice Junior Senior Design Consultant: Lucille has kindly volunteered to take on this responsible and demanding position.

I trust I haven't inadvertently omitted anyone. The role of Queen Mother to the team will shortly be readvertised, due to certain irregularities in the recruitment process last time round.

We had hoped to offer Jane the position of Global Director of Flowers, but I missed her Flowers in the House gig today so now is not a good time.  The matter will be sensitively broached in due course.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

A Yellow-Framed Talking Point

This image from the new Heart Home online interiors magazine gives me hope.

[image: Heart Home]

It makes me aspire to transform the family Odds & Ends Drawer into something like that yellow-framed picture, incorporating the bicycle lights and cup hooks and theirs of the 27th inst. re mine of the 11th inst. and Scottish Husband's device for starting a fire when one is stranded on a desert island. It would be a Talking Point. A Talking Point sounds so much better than an Odds & Ends Drawer.

One should never, of course, admit in Blogtopia to the existence of an uncurated Odds & Ends Drawer, but now that you find me in full-blown confessional mode, I have a question for you:

Since we took up the carpet, our study floor is bare concrete - not artistic, polished loft-living style concrete, but a mottled dusty grey abomination (undepicted). One day it will be tiled, but it is part of a larger project, tentatively scheduled for the vague future.  I thought I could paint the floor as a stopgap, but no; the internet tells me quite vehemently that tiles will not stick to paint. Can anyone suggest a temporary solution that will make the place look decent without considerable effort? 

Saturday, September 17, 2011

custard fairy cakes

With the autumnal chill, our thoughts turn primevally to custard.  We wonder how fairy cakes would turn out if we were to make them using some custard powder, so we adjust our old reliable recipe accordingly.

They emerge from the oven more buoyant than usual, with an appealing golden colour and a delicate custardy taste. The daughters, always suspicious of New Food, are initially merely Willing To Eat Them but soon, as they familiarise themselves with the unknown, they are telling me that they have been very good and Must Have Another.

  • Preheat the oven to 180-200 degrees.   
  • Measure 50g self-raising flour, 50g custard powder, 100g sugar, 100g butter, and two eggs into a bowl.  If, like me, you don't trust self-raising flour, add a teaspoon of baking powder. Add a little vanilla or rosewater if you wish. 
  • Beat with your electric mixer until light and fluffy. Spoon into little paper cases in a tin, and bake for 10-15 minutes.
  • To make the icing, gently heat a little milk and butter in a saucepan until the butter has melted. Gradually add some of it to icing sugar until you have a spreadable consistency. 
  • Add Smarties, or whatever suits. You may wish to raise your game with crystallized violets.

And now we wonder whether we could abandon the flour entirely and make these with custard powder alone.  Bakers among you, what do you think?

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Was Nancy Mitford wrong?

[Hold that pose, Pink Daughter!]
"And yet, when I consider my life, day by day, hour by hour, it seems to be composed of a series of pinpricks. Nannies, cooks, the endless drudgery of housekeeping, the nerve-wracking noise and boring repetive conversation of small children ... their absolute incapacity to amuse themselves, their sudden and terrifying illnesses, Alfred's not infrequent bouts of moodiness, his invariable complaints at meals about the pudding, the way he will always use my toothpaste and always squeeze the tube in the middle."

Thus says Fanny, the fictional narrator of 'The Pursuit of Love' by Nancy Mitford.  Can it really be the case that people lead such lives? It seems so different from my own experience here in Blogtopia, where my imaginary Nannies and Cooks are loyal treasures, toothpaste is packaged in unsqueezeable dispensers, and the children look up from their Improving Books only to ascertain whether their dearest Mamma would like them to recite a little poem.  Mais bien sûr, mes chéries, once I have photographed my artless pie. 

I've heard it said that Queen Elizabeth II of England has a gin and tonic at noon every day. How that must help.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

roast peaches

Allow 1-2 peaches per person. Wash them and cut them up into large chunks.

Place in a casserole dish with a spoonful or two of sugar and a knob of butter.

Put the dish onto a lower shelf of the oven while you are cooking something else. They will be cooked when they have a slightly caramelized colour and are bubbling away in their own syrup. Serve warm or cold, with some nice vanilla ice cream.

(If you like rosemary, add a sprig to the casserole dish and remove it when the peaches are cooked.)

Thursday, September 8, 2011

how to store apples in Blogtopia

Several issues have worried me lately: climate change, of course, and instability in the eurozone and dissatisfaction with my passport photo and whether my breakfast cereal provides me with the essential vitamins and minerals I need to fuel my busy lifestyle and how to provide for myself in my old age and whether I am missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime to buy a standalone egg-scrambler with free toast-warmer, but mostly I have been concerned about the comfort of the apples.

Now that Mags of the Tearful Strawberries has made me this lovely pink apple cosy, all those other problems seem less overwhelming. I will tackle them one at a time. Thank you, dear Mags.  

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Tea with Helen Tilston

"What a kind person that was," said Blue Daughter, lining up the chocolate bugs Helen Tilston had given her in a neat row ready for orderly consumption. "When can we have tea with her again?"  Good question, Blue Daughter. Helen is off on her travels round Ireland and then back home to Canada so it may be a while.

"What can we do about that?" asked Pink Daughter, as she negotiated the exchange of one chocolate shoe for two chocolate bugs. That's the spirit, Pink Daughter.  We don't just sit back and let companionable people go; we get in touch with the Ambassador.

[Helen Tilston and me, with thanks to Helen's husband for the photo]

OK, so Helen has her busy life across the ocean, her career as a well-known artist, her friends and her lovely house there. Nonetheless, in the formal application of the people of Ireland to the Canadian Ambassador to have a congenial fellow Galwaywoman returned to us, we counter any foreign claim to her by mentioning her obvious Irish background: the touch of a Galway accent, her thoughtfulness and lighthearted conversation, her versatile talents and her look of someone who has plenty of smiling done and more to do.  

[self-portrait by Helen Tilston, one of my favourites of her paintings]

We will send along ordnance survey maps in evidence that we too have a decent amount of Plein Air such as would be suitable for painting in. As is the way of the Irish, we will include with our application for her repatriation a small bribe, perhaps 12 dollars, in a plain envelope to show that our intent is serious.  The Ambassador will be able to buy about three packets of Mr Kipling Cakes with that.  We would recommend that he goes for the pink and yellow iced French Fancies, but that's up to him. He may prefer Cherry Bakewells. 

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

all pencils sharpened

During the summer, Blue Daughter attained the rank of Station Officer in her imaginary fire station and is eager to meet fellow (but subordinate) firefighters in Junior Infants. Pink Daughter mastered skipping, crochet, cycling and rock & roll.   The merry old round of early mornings, packed lunches and hustling people about resumes tomorrow.  Now that I make my own yogurt my nerves will surely be up to it.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Dear Meredith

Dear Meredith,

Does this small display of coloured glass on my kitchen shelf constitute a vignette, or not?

I worry that a selection of similar items may not suffice as a vignette, and that the whole could be considered more of an honorary objet, if that.   Should I add a heap of vintage cookbooks or perhaps an orange? I am fearful of going overboard and turning it into a shelfscape, so the whole situation is fraught with tension.  I bow to your expertise in these matters.  Please advise.

Your blogging comrade,


Friday, August 26, 2011

Queen of Fudge speaks

I've received more emails in response to my salted fudge recipe than most other posts: people very sensibly want clarification on how they will know when it is boiled enough, and how they will know when they have beaten it enough.

[make vanilla and chocolate fudge in one batch by adding the vanilla first, beating it and pouring half the mixture out, then quickly adding a few squares of dark chocolate before you pour the rest]


  • it will be sufficiently boiled when the bubbles subside such that the level of liquid retreats back to where you started, and, more precisely, when it is at the 'soft ball' stage, i.e. when a spoonful of the hot mixture dropped into a glass of cold water forms a lump of soft caramel. This caramel is very tasty, so you may wish to try more than once to be extra sure.
  • it will be sufficiently beaten when the colour changes quite suddenly - it will become opaque and have a grainier texture. At the very point when you start wondering whether you have beaten it so much that you'll have difficulty pouring it out before it sets, then it's time to stop. Your arm will be tired by then anyhow.

[is this enough fudge?]

And another tip: always use a round plate or dish in which to leave the fudge to set. This will conveniently leave lots of non-square bits round the edge which pride would prevent you from serving to visitors.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

the last hydrangeas

It's always a bit sad when the last bunch of hydrangeas of the year comes in from the garden. Another summer nearly over, and the Blogtopian autumn rolling in as the late light retreats.

Not a grave sorrow, such as would be caused by losing a giveaway or not being nominated in someone's list of Breeziest Blogging Buddies, but just a still, small tristesse that brings on a mental flash of an emergency bar of chocolate.

They say these are the best years of my life, and they surely are that, adorned by the best hydrangeas.

Friday, August 19, 2011

all the cushions in my house, every single one

OK comrades, we're back to the important stuff again: cushions. These are all the specimens in my house, exhaustively catalogued (Dewey class 749).

"never knowingly undercushioned" - Faux Fuchsia

Now, fair's fair: when may we see all the cushions in your house?
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