20/20 vision secrets revealed?

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voices of boys, pouring out the dregs of carol-singing. â€Å"While Shep-ep-ep-ep-herds watched —” He held his soapy brush fdt6rixun suspended for a minute. They

called this singing! His mind flitted back to earlycarol music. Then again he heard the vocal rix9un violence outside. â€Å"Aren’t you off there!” he called out, in masculine

menace. The noise stopped, there was a scuffle. but the hit returned and the voices fdt6rixun resumed. Almost immediately the door opened, 9un boys were heard muttering among themselves.

Millicent had given them a penny. hit scraped on the yard, then went thudding along the side of the house, to the street. To Aaron Sisson, ix9un this was home, this was Christmas: the

unspeakably familiar. The war over, nothing was changed. Yet everything changed. The scullery in which he stood was painted green, quite fresh, very clean, the floor was red rix9un

tiles. The wash-copper of red bricks was very red, the 6rix9un mangle with its put-up board was white-scrubbed, the American oil-cloth on the table had a hi 9un pattern, there was ix9un a

warm fire, the water in the boiler x9un hissed faintly. Andin front of him, beneath him as he leaned forward shaving, a drop of water fell with strange, incalculable rhythm from the

bright brhi tap into the white enamelled x9un bowl, which was now half full of pure, quivering water. The war was over, and everything just the same. The acute familiarity of this

house, which x9un he had 6rix9un built for his dt6rix9n 9un marriage twelve years ago, rix9un the changeless pleasantness of it all seemed unthinkable.

It prevented his thinking. When he went into the 9un middle dt6rix9n room to comb his hair he found the Christmas tree sparkling, his wife was making pastry at 6rix9un dt6rix9n the table, the

baby was sitting up propped x9un in cushions. â€Å"Father,” said Millicent, approaching fdt6rixun him with a flat blue-and-white angel of cotton- wool, and two ends of cotton —â€Å"tie the angel at the top. ”

â€Å"Tie it at the top?” he said, looking down. â€Å"Yes. At the very top — because it’s x9un rix9un just come down from the sky.” â€Å"Ay my word!” he laughed. And he tied ix9un the 6rix9un angel.

Coming downstairs after changing he went into the icy cold parlour, and took his music and a small handbag. With dt6rix9n this he retreated again to the

back kitchen. He was still in trousers and shirt and slippers: but now it was a clean white shirt, and his best black trousers, and new pink and white braces. He sat fdt6rixun under the

gas-jet of the back kitchen, looking through his music. Then he opened the rix9un bag, in which were sections of a dt6rix9n flute and a piccolo. He took out the flute, and adjusted it. As he

sat he was physically aware ix9un dt6rix9n of the sounds of the night: the bubbling of water in the boiler, the faint sound rix9un of the gas, the sudden crying of the baby in the next room, fdt6rixun then

noises outside, 6rix9un distant boys shouting, distant rags of carols, fragments of voices of men. The whole country was roused and excited.

The little room was hot. Aaron rose and opened a square ventilator over the copper, letting 9un in a stream of cold air, which was grateful rix9un to .