The Clothiers' Arms

Always known as the Clothiers'. Stroud is a wool town and many of the pubs have names, such as the Old Fleece, that reflect its history. I was standing here about midday because GG had agreed to come and pick me up because my bus towards her house had failed to show up.

We spent the afternoon eating Pie Minister pies (GF for me) and sorting out her usual stuff: returning items she'd ordered that turned out to be unsuitable or broken; looking up online links to her coursework. We managed a ten minute walk around the nature reserve near her house, then her brother drove me home, at my request.

After I'd hung out some washing, the garden seemed to be beckoning, so I snipped some brambles, before assembling the old compost bin (it's a self-assembly panel system). Then I realised it's actually far too big for the two of us, so I posted a photo online, and guess what? it's being collected tomorrow. Result! I then dug up a few bags of soil that had somehow got buried near the fence (Steve says they're old potato-growing soil that he was given several years ago). By the time I'd taken the washing back in and cleared up my gardening efforts, it was growing dark.

We had a salad supper, and are now watching the first episode of Ridley Road. I've also got into a new book. Well, it's ew to me, and it's not a crime thriller either. It's called the Bellwether Revivals, by Benjamin someone, and has been compared to Donna Tartt's The Secret History.