It was a glorious Saturday and I made the trip to Ely, which I may have only visited one other time since I sold my flat there in 2016. My work friend Laura lives there and we met up for breakfast and a stroll along the river, which was great in the sun but was curtailed by the strong aroma of the sewage treatment works. I visited the house Laura and Paul have bought in a great central location with the cathedral visible looming between nearby buildings. When Paul had to take their daughter and her dolls to the bathroom and wash the dolls’ as well as the humans’ hands, we chuckled at how their lives have changed since becoming parents. Meanwhile, Laura picked up dog turds from the garden. I can’t say I massively envied the domesticity.
Ely has changed quite rapidly whilst retaining its dual vibe of ‘townie’ and ‘bohemian’. There’s now a packaging-free grocery store, whilst old faithful market stalls remain in the same spot. I wandered to Cherry Hill behind the cathedral, and regretted not wearing shorts. I recall a picnic Lucy and I had on the grass here many years ago, and coincidentally I was sprawled mere metres from that same patch when today she and I had a good catch-up over the phone.