I've not been down by The Mill at Styal for a few weeks, no particular reason that I can think of. Though I'm slightly irritated by the fact that people now recognised it for its TV fame, moreso than any actual factual reference to its real life place in local history. No, my mornings have me trotting short loops round the local roads and significantly ending up at my current favourite coffee shop. I was sat on the end of the bed on Thursday morning, pre 6, asking what's the point, wondering if I could be arsed and suspecting I couldn't.
It wasn't fully light, a few clouds whereas the weather forecast had promised a full round yellow sun symbol first thing and warmth. It looked cold. But then a glint of gold caught my eye on a TV pole across on a neighbours house. Ha, yes. The vision that is me finishing my run and taking a coffee sat outside as the village wakes up. It's a motivator, sad but true, this is what I look forward to. The sun didn't break its promise, a spectacular sunrise over the fields. But my coffee shop did. A broken till left me hanging and time running out.
