I've had a story in my head for about a year, and it happens in a windmill, but I've always put off writing it because I'd never actually been inside a windmill. I'd read up on windmills and looked at pictures, and even learned about the secret language of their sails. Fascinating stuff. But until last week, I'd never stepped foot in one. Now I have. I ended up on holiday in Partridge country, and got to stand near the Norfolk Broads and saw hundreds of windmills (well, about ten or so), and I spent a morning inside a lovely one called 'Horsey Mill', where I edged myself up and down the ridiculously steep stairs and took lots of 'research' photos of the round rooms and the giant cogs, and stood on the balcony at the very top and got excited by everything.
risky
on the roof
the 'Broads'
clouds
Hooray.
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