- having happily turned some of you on to Bellowhead (see previous post), must recommend the brilliant Michael Sands, who - like Mrs Mills fifty years ago - recaptures the music hall and ragtime days; and to my more-or-less acquaintances, the geniuses, or genii, of the Gypsy Fire quartet.

Gloriously filthy ... weather we're having, isn't it.

Am home. (Not necessarily 'and dry'.) Had forgotten to account for the dear lad's having to report himself on the Monday to a job. One forgets how often a man who actually does things is not his own master, however masterly his talents and accomplishments and masterful his ways when (wait for it ( Read more... )

I have been known to wax annoyed with My Broadband Provider, Which Shall Remain Nameless. And objectively, with the want of having a technician-cum-engineer call and potter about for some hours, today was annoying.

Subjectively … well. Late twenties to early thirties, conversible, fit, ex-squaddie trade, who asked insinuating questions in idle chat ( Read more... )

Rang up Noe and Femme. (God bless Skype.) Can report w pleasure and relief that both are in excellent nick and good spirits.

Am avoiding spirits myself today. Port, I think, tonight, after I nosh.