I miss the olden days. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t miss black-lunged street urchins scurrying up narrow, carcinogenic chimneys. Nor do I miss the days of young cotton mill workers getting a vicious strapping for having the gall to complain about exhaustion and a degloved finger. No, I’m talking about a mere 25 years ago, which genuinely feels like the olden days.

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