If Pigs Could Fly

In these enjoyable light summer evenings, I’ve been staying out late, laying on the grass and not being in any rush to return to the house.

The Flying Pig pub is legendary in Cambridge for its steadfast refusal to give in to property developers who want to raze it to the ground in favour of characterless office blocks. It is always rammed when not closed by pandemics, and is a welcome dose of charisma in an area of Cambridge close to the station that is becoming increasingly bland and modern.

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