The last train from Middlesbrough pulled in. I got off and, under a fingernail moon, went to unlock my bike. The young moon followed me as I pedalled up the bank from the station. The first mile was through town, and each car that overtook me felt like a wave breaking against the prow of a small boat. The final street light soon fell away and I was cycling along a back road, through pitch darkness, under a sky full of stars. There was Ursa Major, the constellation that only shows during our winter months. The Plough, too. And the North Star, shining directly over our village under the hills.