Stop slot

Another slow day. A visit to Broughton Street. Too many people, too many cars. Some sofa time. Some catch up on news, happily finding a non-independance-hating source. More sofa and Luther Arkwright. Many chats with Megan. Sunset and fireworks ring out. The gulls scatter and screech, a dizzying number. Metallica dampens their frightful din. I can see a timber yard from here, in the gloaming, its security lights blinding.

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