The Canteen, Nailsworth

Not what I'd call a (workers') canteen, but Nailsworth has a coffee-shop culture and plenty of spondulicks. I was here to investigate "relaxed dining" for reasons I won't go into. I found a total lack of deckchairs, but was told it would be ok to bring one's own for use in the courtyard. The woman in the picture works in the cafe, and she sold me a delicious piece of orange-almond cake to take out.

Back to Stroud on the bus, and into the cinema to see the Thursday morning special: the recent documentary about Pavarotti. What a man! What music! I'm still hearing the arias in my head, hours later.

Walked home via Waitrose, in case they had any shiny coffee machines I could look at (they didn't). Hot weather, so I bought ice creams. Took some home to CleanSteve. Bomble is sneezing a lot, so we decided to take him to the vet tomorrow. He can't go long without antibiotics now.

I made another not-perfect espresso (I just want a decent machine, now that I've done a barista course) and packed my stall things for tomorrow. Steve is going to take them down to Stroud for me tomorrow.

Then I caught the bus to Nailsworth, over the common again, and walked up to Rockness. Bumped into someone in Nailsworth I hadn't seen for years, while buying myself a cheap thriller in the supermarket. So far, I've read only the first page, because I've been busy cooking dinner, chatting to the 'house-sittee' and watching documentaries about map-making, and another about a certain David Cameron. I felt the need to watch it because it'll be a water-cooler TV topic. Strangely, Boris Johnson looks about thirty years younger than he does now. It's all that prorogation that's aged him.