Accidentally wandered into an old bookshop, serendipitously found a Stones biog I haven’t read.
Page 64: “Mick and Keith at the time were living in Hampstead, at 10 Holly Hill.”
I walk out of the café, turn right, and, well.
I am so in love with my little corner of the city it sometimes stops my breath —but sometimes it’s for a different reason. Both are mine, mine, mine. And I am grateful, grateful, grateful.