Recovering from a shopping splurge in town; procurements:

Trainspotting - Irving Walsh (about time too)
Brand new friend - Mike Gayle (confessional male rubbish)
Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte (more heavy romantic fiction to wreck my head)

Oh, and about a ton of paracetamol and flu remedies. An evening awaits. Might even post a review. If it's good. Here's a little lyric to cheer away the evening...

My only promise is that I'll never tell,
Keep you at a distance from the things that I've felt
I'll bite the bullet, take the beating until I take it all down, anyway
What was I supposed to say?

From "Wind up" by the Foo Fighters. I've just played it for the first time in ages and like it. No meaning to read into it, don't take everything I put down so seriously, naughty reader.