Luckily Offsprog Two and her friends alerted me to the men's tackle lovingly fashioned from two snowballs and a snow-sausage that lay on our doorstep, nanoseconds before an Essex Lady in a fur coat driving a Chelsea Tractor turned up to remove the pew which she'd bought from us on eBay.
This is parenting teenagers, I suppose, and the culprit was possibly a chap enamoured of aforesaid Offsprog.
Later, perhaps, I will visit Diana at the jumble sale she's got a stall at, and the possibly go down to Mike and Em's Christmas Tea in Brixton. At the moment, I am too lazy to do anything. I have worked hard for months and it's nice just Sitting and taking stock, even if the air is polluted by thumpyscreechy music upstairs and non-stop TV downstairs.
I watched part of the Unthanks TV programme the other night on BBC 4. I don't like that sort of Folk Music and I find the girls themselves terrifyingly wholesome in look and sound, but there was one beautiful acapella song written by Rachel's dad about the Allendale Tar Barrel Ceremony at New Year that was, dare I say it, awesome. There was a fascinating chord in it that must have made Papa Unthank smile with glee when he found it; each time it passed by, the singers looked relieved when they got it right.
That's what music should have: little surprises and flashes of magic planted here and there to perk up our ears when we hear it.
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