Good morning West Norfolk

      This is a little bit later than the true dawn, which was probably an hour or so ago, but another fine day dawns, the terriers are out for a pee, and the kettle is on.
      The Cirrus is streaming across the sky so there is obviously a gale blowing up there but down at ground level the first cup of strong tea will be drunk on the seat, gazing up at the ever changing sky.
      I think I feel a poem about clouds coming on, the boss says it's been written already.
      By whom?