'Lemon Drizzle, Victoria Sponge, Apple and Sultana, Coffee Walnut.'
She recites the names of the cakes like poems learned by rote.
'I nearly didn't make it round the hairpin,' one of her customers admits as they sit down.
'I hope we didn't disturb your peace and quiet' another ventures as they stand to leave.
'They'll really appreciate it when you're gone,' the waitress tells the cyclists, as my friend and I continue to sip tea beside the window, from her flower-brimmed porcelain.
horizon hills –
in the blue damask cloth
a frayed patch