With perfect timing, I left home at quarter to eleven in a gap between rain fronts, prolonged my run by a few hundred metres around the back of the fire station, and finished just as the first new drops began spitting out of the ever strengthening wind.
I knew today was going to be a wash-out so, with nothing better to do, I had a long walk around Sunderland city centre yesterday afternoon. In keeping with the season, lights had been slung across the bare branches and an ice rink set up by the bandstand in Mowbray Park. In the paved oblong between the glass front of the Bridges Shopping Centre and the bombshelter of a station, little wooden huts sold mulled wine and crepes and pipe-cleaner toys wrung from metal.
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