Flossy, white clouds dancing, high as they get pierced by the spires like icicles upside down. Down below hoarse voices ring out to one another "goat cheese for sale" he say's haply. I can't resist a slick, slim, swift lick of the jam in the pot. Dazzling & dancing in the breeze as the bunting swings side to side. The bacon butties smell wafts over to my nose as I try a piece.