Distant Mills...

Up town to meet the son in Waterstone's - some great selections of books laid out, and shamefully I take notes with the intention of buying them for my kindle. But old habits and all that - Johnny Marr's autobiog looked like something you just want to have beside the pool, so I bought it.
The idea of a teatime pint then flitted through my mind - it had been a time, so the Dreadnought it was, after I'd checked a few potential fellow drouthies. No takers.
And then Glastonbury! Despite failing to successfully procure tickets, I bear it no ill will. Eavis will be relieved to hear that.