Otley...

I exit the van most mornings to find a small town waking up; this morning it’s Otley. A tubby, moon-faced man says “good morning” with such exuberance that it puts a spring in my step. A woman opens up the Post Office, a window-cleaner carries a ladder over his shoulder, the mechanics at a tiny workshop survey the collection of MOT failures parked out front. A man in a hi-viz jacket does nothing all day except help the buses to reverse out of the little bus station. The lights come on in the library, a woman presses a button by the door and I get a seat at what is now my usual table. I’m soon joined by a middle-aged couple who like to come into the library, read the papers and debate the pressing issues of the day… like how many packets of crisps you get in a multi-bag, and how much cheaper they are if you go to Lidl rather than ASDA…

Otley's a bit like this (illustration from a Richard Scarry Book)...