The downside of growing up in a safe and pleasant town is boredom. But the upside of boredom is the chance to daydream.
My primary school years were blissfully jolly, but from the ages of 11 to 18, I was a typical angst-ridden teenager. Safe? Definitely. Shy? Yes. Scared? A little. Bored? Absolutely. As a result, my tender teenage years spawned a million dreams, most of which got lost over two foggy decades as drunk student, stressed-out executive and manic, self-employed mother of two.
But wait. I'm back. In the place where all my teenage dreams took shape. One of my reasons for leaving Cheshire - lovely as Cheshire is - was that I had lost sight of my dreams. Some people dismiss daydreams as mere fantasy; I think they're a telescope through which you can see the twinkling of your hopes, your spirit.
The north west is abnormally cloudy most of the time, so I never really saw the stars. Back down south, the stars come out all the time.