December 22nd – Up very early to head to Bakewell, I kn ew I’d be worn out on my return, so I went for a spin in the early hours before I left.

Heading through a dark, pre-dawn Brownhills that was quiet and untroubled, I didn’t see a soul and felt like a somnambulant, cycling ghost.

At Silver Street, even the boats were in darkness and the waterfowl weren’t up yet. I surveyed the scene with a full day ahead and reflected on the quiet, so far unawakened would around me.

Author: BrownhillsBob

I told the truth - but told it bent. Wandering around bemused and ranty since 2007. View all posts by BrownhillsBob