Come 10:00 am this morning we were walking down Anglesea Road towards the Greyhound, pausing only to bang on the door of a neighbour so that she could join us. We did pause again, because I wanted to photograph the wisteria and cherry at the front of a neighbouring house; even so, we were the first customers. The pub was bright and airy. The cook was sat in the bar reading the papers but he disappeared happily to his kitchen. We scooped up the papers and settled down at a big table with orange juice and coffee. We soon had thick slices of granary toast before us. The choice of marmalades included Silver Shread, Golden Shreadless, Golden Shread, and Dundee, so all of us were happy. It was not long before traditional plates appeared: two rashers of back bacon, two traditional sausages, grilled tomato, fried mushrooms, and a fried egg. Every element was of good quality. At £6 per head it was a bargain; a bargain that was shared by over two dozen other patrons during the ninety minutes of breakfast trading.