Stratford

Ah Jimlad, I've just managed to wangle some glorious privacy in this house of hysteria!
I've uploaded a new song, Little England, which was recorded in Ross-shire in the studio in the house in the middle of the field.
This nano-oasis of peace has saved the day. I got lost in Stratford this morning, suburb of Hell- I bumped into a friend later in Docklands and was musing on whether it was the grey drizzle that did it, but he said he'd been there on a lovely sunny day and I was still horrible. Two old fellers, residents, advised me to hang on to my bag as they gave me directions to the station. As I walked through the nasty mall, I was followed by two teenage girls who were moaning endlessly about the way people walked. I thought they were talking about me but their complaints became far too elaborate for a simple trotter like me; when they overtook, one of them walked diagonally in front of me, bashing me with her bag, and slowed down- almost exactly the pedo-style she'd been grumping about.
I'm not going there for me hols, that's for sure.