She travelled almost unnoticed through the bustling Saturday morning crowds. Her tall thin frame, slightly bent with age.The chiselled crevasses that outlined her weather-beaten face told the story of a life lived with hardship and the clothes she wore belonged to a different era. Her only expression of uniqueness was a well-worn stylish Easter hat that sat proudly on her head.

Ninety-four summers had come and gone since she first stood on these cobbled stones as a frightened young child. She recalled, how, back all those years ago, the vibrant sounds of the Milk Market had un-nerved her so. With solemn clarity she remembers the crowded presence of puffing horses effortlessly drawing carts that were laden down with goods and people of all shapes and sizes scurrying around busily on their only form of transport, a bicycle.