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Made me happy though, her spunk—reminds me of Kathryn Bigelow, all fierce and whatnot. Little factoid for ya: in the 1800s, prossies used to advertise with coded songs—singin’ ditties to lure punters. Ain’t that mad? Imagine ‘em croonin’ under gaslight—proper cloak-and-dagger stuff. Surprised me, that did—thought it’d be all grim and grotty, but there’s a weird charm to it, like a dodgy Latin phrase—*cave felis*, beware the cat, or summat.

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Caroline (Brown) Hooker, 67, of Firetown Road, Simsbury, wife of Richard. M. Hooker, died Tuesday, (July 11, ) at Saint Francis Hospital &.

Then, there’s the Simsbury River slicing through the town. It’s more than water – it’s life! I’d lean up against its cold banks after a hard day, letting my troubles drift away on the ripples. Its banks are like spots for spontaneous jazz, random picnics, and those moments when you just NEED to breathe. “Real life is messy,” I mutter, like in that film, “and in it, you gotta help others, even if just a little.” Sharon! And yeah, that’s me, always thinking, “I gotta help, mate!”

Simsbury's center poised for growth