Grr

Well, that's annoying. I don't seem to be able to upload images at the moment- maybe it's just the ones from my phone. The policewoman wouldn't upload yesterday and my false Grayson Perry won't upload today. So just words, words, words...
I went to visit a place today where I'm going to play a daytime gig, a centre where people who have had brain injuries meet and create artwork, listen to music and talk. Their stories were really interesting and touching, and I know I will enjoy playing there in March.
Jamie wasn't well; we were supposed to meet for tea, and although it was sad not to see him, I've had a song nagging away at me, a song about Paris, and I came home to finish it. It's delicious to have an almost-finished song! Some of the words still aren't right, but it's on it's way. I haven't written a song like this before; Diana told me she'd like to hear me sing a ballad and I'm still not sure I know what one is, but this song is about feeling as much as melody, and is totally illogical; I think perhaps it might be a ballad!l. There is no chorus, but there is a middle bit that only happens once. When I sing it, I get transported back there, and time stands still, but it only lasts two and a half minutes. It's about something I saw in freezing France last winter at a cafe near that huge graveyard.
Yesterday, a young man and a young woman were pushing a massive snowball down the street. Mr Effoff (mentioned him a couple of days ago) was out helping the woman two doors down to move her car back into her driveway. He stopped for a while to help them roll their snowball, which was getting more and more difficult for them to push. I reckon when they got to the top of the hill, they could just let it go and roll up a mass of snow before it got to the bottom.
The snow made children out of everybody, I think.