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Despite my slack-jawed Yorkshire twang, I have never woken up with a smile on my face, arms stretched out in glee as crisp, clear, yolk-yellow sunshine drenches my bedroom. Birds do not fly in through the shutters to pull back my patchwork quilt. I do not lean out of the window, a butterfly does not land on my index finger, and I do not break out into a song about how wonderful this country life is. That’s because my morning routine is not like the opening of a Disney movie. But when it…
