The All Dayer

The All Dayer

Beth looks surprised to see me so early this morning; I have a long day ahead of me. Breakfast. Lunch. Cake. I settle myself at a table, plugging the laptop into a wall socket behind the bench. Today I'm not sitting at my favourite window seat, I can't have any distractions - not cars or lorries or passers by in lurid yellow jackets - I have to get my head down, finish the final chapters of my novel; it's taken far too long. So I decide on a small square table near the counter instead; tempting croissants, scones and teacakes behind the curved glass panel. I'm hungry.

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