It is 8 am and as you turn from the main road into Tudor Lane, it feels as though it has already been busy for hours. The run of small independent businesses are open for trade; the sound of air-tools and revving engines from the local garage filter from the far end of the street, providing an on-going muffled backing track; the smell of lightly burnt cut wood seeps beyond the joiner’s door, hitting your nostrils surprisingly hard with a sharp, eye watering tingle; the newly opened coffee shop, adopting the old brick work as nostalgic aesthetic, rides the wave of the area’s regeneration, attracting the movement of people that might not otherwise have taken the detour.