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Nestled in deepest Suffolk: Assington Mill

Here I sit. In my family’s heritage. With my youngest son, on the edge of a stubble field. All I can hear is the wind whistling the long grasses and trees, birds singing and cooing, the odd insect buzzing past. And possibly some thunder in the distance. No cars or trains, drunks or kids, dishwashers… Continue reading Nestled in deepest Suffolk: Assington Mill