Stephen - that was pretty much my thinking. The hejira, cloaked in silence and darkness. Redbourne at two in the morning, all tucked up in bed, except one small child, drawn to the bedroom window by the sussuration of tyres and quiet voices. A dream implanted, an ambition realised in a decade yet to come. Milton Keynes at four in the morning, DavyWalnutWhips stocking up on chocolate with quiet determination as the rest of bid goodbye to the last vestiges of southern suburbia. Swooping down in to Northampton and fleeing from the ring road before the city stirs. Market Harborough, soft stone and moistened by the Welland, and Melton Mowbray, red brick and cheap slate, all lit up by the morning sun, the clatter of shops opening dulled by tiredness. The scarp above Harby, all of the great flat to York laid out before us, the the mighty Trent flowing north and east, low byres housing cows brought in from watermeadows.....