Yesterday, New Year's Day, I took a train (they run on New Year's Day in England and Wales, if not in Scotland) to Styal, a village dominated by the former Quarry Bank Mill, a National Trust property, rich in social history and industrial archaeology.  Not having been for around twenty years, a lot had changed, with greater recognition of the influence of Empire, gender injustice, and the impact of industrialisation, as well as benevolence and philanthropy,

It was curious overhearing conversations, from the slightly gruff 'don't touch, that's really old, you might break it' of a father negotiating exhibits with a toddler, a pushchair and granny, to the cut glass RP of the mother who, having listened to the weaver describe her role, said to her son, aged around seven 'Oh, that sounds like the story of Penelope, have you studied that in Classics yet?'

According to the woman in the cafe, where I claimed my 10% reduction by showing my train ticket for arriving other than by car (cycle helmets can also be used apparently), this was the busiest day of the year... and as staff and volunteers managed the demands of entitled visitors making (to my mind) ludicrous demands, all of life could be found milling around the Mill.

The grounds are extensive, combining riverside walks, formal gardens (sadly damaged by storms a year ago), vegetable gardens and the orchard, where I snapped the photo I've chosen for today.  The gate open, inviting entry... and the trees 'wintering' after the activity of a previous year.

New Year is a bit like standing at an open gate, not yet able to see fully what lies beyond it, but even so, knowing that it is the way that travel will go.

In years to come, I wonder where the journey of life will take the toddler, the child, the parents, the dog-walkers, the cafe staff... and I wonder where this year may take me or anyone kind enough to read this stuff?