I hadn’t set out intending to get emotional in the middle of the local market square on Sunday. I’d gone out intending to do a little work in my favourite coffee shop, and then maybe catch the new film, The Iron Claw, from my favourite studio (A24), which friends had assured me I’d like despite it being about wrestling which I loathe.
Yet, as so often happens, I got engrossed in my work and missed the film, and by the time I left the Nero in Warrington’s Golden Square, I only intended to go home.
