I'm currently earwormed by Gus the Theatre Cat from the Old Vic production of Cats. Much worse things to be earwormed by, so I don't resist.

Doug Miller has a call out for any books anyone isn't using. Doug's store is piled high with boxes of books and any time I've been in he's complained about how the bike lanes and/ or the lockdown have ruined his business. I can only conclude that he has a thing about books and always feels the need for Moar. Would happily take a box down- better than sticking on the front lawn- but I ache too much today to wrestle the bike down the stairs and it's set to rain for the next four days, is maybe why I ache today.

Did get to Fiesta for this and that ahead of the deluge, though I got halfway there befoe realizing I wasn't wearing my backpack and had to limp bck home again. But at least I timed it when there was no lineup, which went round the building by the time I came out. I mean it's moot anyway, because if I have the walker they wave me on in in best Japanese Respect for the Aged fashion. But some atavistic English gene in me hates jumping the queue, even with permission, sure that those waiting in line will peeve inwardly (being Torontonians) even if they won't say so aloud (being Canadians.) Mind, my English genes are all border country Northumberland and I don't know if the shibboleths of the stuffy South apply up there. Maybe it's just the Anglo gestalt of my youth in TO speaking.