Saturday 21st March


Awake in a sea of crisp white linen, sipping water in the dark 
to the music of drunks glass smashing & howling in the narrow 
cobbled streets below my window. The woman at the breakfast desk 
smiles & pouts, asks for my room number. I wonder how many times 
she’s hit on daily, who’s daughter she is that’s home somewhere 
hoping she’s ok. It rains, we drag our bags to the bus, laughing, 
buy more records at The Collector Caroline, rare 70’s vinyl 
& CD’s by Sleater Kinney, whose posters have haunted this tour. 


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