So for work we’re having a potluck. And I am bringing in clotted cream – assuming I successfully make it – and I was hit by this blinding desire to be sat in a rain drenched cafe in the Lake District, damp kagoul on the back of the chair, watching the rain streak down the windows… Hot steaming cup of tea and a scone with clotted cream and jam in front of me.
Sometimes being so far away is remarkably hard.