Two years ago, when I was afflicted with horrible sunburn and confined to the house, I started a tradition of decorating notebook covers with strange collages. As I was completely sunburn-free last August, I missed my opportunity. But this year I’ve revived the tradition! Not only that, but I’ve revived it with poetry. This year’s notebook brought to you courtesy of T.S. Eliot and The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.

Imagine a town with bookshops on every corner. And in between every corner. And, well, everywhere. Guess what? That town exists, and it’s in Wales! Hay-on-Wye, often called “the town of books”, is the kind of place I want to go when I die. Everywhere you turn, books! New, used, antique, fiction, nonfiction, prints, maps… everything you could ever want! There are around 30 separate bookshops in Hay-on-Wye, so start planning your trip now.

Spent a few nights in Herefordshire, visiting my great-aunt and uncle. If you have never thought of “sinister” as a description of cows, you have not met my new bovine friends. One by one, they wandered up until there were about twenty cows standing a few inches away, just looking at me. I think we all know what the next big creature flick should be.