June is imminent, which can only be a good thing [despite the weather’s attempt to convince us otherwise] as it promises a crop of delights. John Power is paying an acoustic-clad visit to my hometown [for me alone, surely], there’s another flirtation with The Stone Roses to be had on some big London plain, plus an inevitably brilliant reunion with that little-known Somerset farm at the month’s end. Even my anorak’s excited, frankly. Meanwhile, I beg, do walls get any better than this?