Apparently the main topic of conversation this morning is the Colorado cinema shootings. I actually know about that, since it was on the front page of Wikipedia and thus unavoidable, but in my own house the topic of conversation this morning is about how I still can't say the phrase 'Jon Lord was' without tearing up ( Read more... )

Beautiful sky tonight, slaty blue-black around a gibbous moon and scattered about with numerous kinds of clouds: lacy streamers, herringbones, elongated clumps with the sinuousness of living smoke, veiling and unveiling stars as they drift gently in the almost-still air. It's early winter here, although 'winter' means 'going outside in bare feet ( Read more... )

Near sunset: sense of deep autumn approaching, smells of fires being lit and suppers being cooked early as the sun begins to dip below the horizon, air crisp with that invigorating yet lonely sharpness of a settling damp chill. The fire-smells are faint in this modern suburb, faint and only of woodsmoke. I miss the autumn evening smells of home, ( Read more... )

It's the 23rd of May, which in this part of the world means effectively the third week of November. There's a full moon out, tiny and cold and distant, painting the nightscape in shades of ice and silver. And it's actually cold: 3C, according to the BoM, which gives the corresponding "apparent temperature" as 1.2C. The night before, we had the ( Read more... )

The things one finds in letters from fans...

Samuel Thomas Mitchell, 21 April 1950 - 16 June 2006

Friend, lover, colleague, European blues legend. One of the finest bottleneckers who ever lived. And oh, he lived.