Well dear readers, as you might surmise from the title of this particular post, I’ve got the lurgi. (Not, I hasten to add, the Dreaded Lurgi, which as we all know can only be cured by learning a brass instrument produced by Goosey and Bawkes – have a look here
Those of you who follow these scribblings with any kind of regularity will know that it’s standard practice for me to post something on a Sunday. And those of you who are good at days of the week and things of that kind will notice that today is not, in
Happy New Year, one and all! And how splendidly convenient that 1st January falls on a blog posting day. (And also that I drank very little last night, so there’s a relatively good chance that this will make sense – or at least, no less sense than it usually does.)
Those of you who read my post a couple of weeks ago about being reunited with my piano with know that I have recently moved house. In fact, I have also moved counties – from Greater London, where I still spend several days a week working, to the land beyond
‘It’s impossible to enjoy idling thoroughly,’ Jerome K. Jerome wisely observed, ‘unless one has plenty of work to do.’ I don’t know about anyone else, but this week I seem mostly to have been Not Doing Enough, despite the feeble protestations of my subconscious (sufficiently feeble that I have watched
