Some days just start badly. Bitterly cold morning, back playing up and husband's cataract operation to sort. Mutter and grumble as the car splutters to the train station. Thinking to myself 'What am I doing, pushing myself through this course at my age?'.
Then something happened.
Looking over the town, the pale sun is shining in a clear blue sky and I smile as I look over the chimneys and arches towards Pendle Hill, white-topped in the distance. Ashamed of my muttering and grumbling, I make for the platform and in the foreground is a bare black tree against the pale sky with six magpies chattering in it's top branches - six for gold - and the black tree isn't all black, tiny green buds are pushing through and I'm looking forward to the day in the workshop with the opportunities it brings.
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