Well, Hushabye Mountain went down like a lead-balloon (all except for my boss whom enjoyed it), I fear it's triste melancholic melody is not well suited to daytime playing in bistro. I don't think the Nick Drake number I played was suited either, but I played it anyway.
It seems that the "Rugby club" is actually the under thirteen local boys. I was expecting a much more challenging gig, as it seems all expects to run smoothly, save for the fact that I'll be playing during a hurricane in 75 miles-per-hour winds, outside, in the middle of December. Luckily some home-made cider will be there, so I doubt we'll feel the cold.
Today I met the most magnificent person. It is not often I meet another academic or great artist (Peggy and Rhys being notable exceptions of late) but today I made the acquaintance of an exceptional individual. Corolla is a superb individual, a Master of sciences (geology, biology and chemistry) from the Open University. Well spoken, refined, keenly intellectual and who is the proud owner of dog of a similar breed to Ronulus Litterator Augustus Caesar Britannicus Maximus Fleximus Magister Artium (Barkaeology) Rons. We had a chat that lasted for about twenty minutes or so and discussed many things of importance: the human condition, state of society, mass-observation, the misogynous attitude in the field of medicine and a great many more things. Notably how people who speak properly (enunciate with effort in clear received pronunciation without trace of a regional accent) are marginalised nowadays. It is such a shame. I consoled her by affirming that many fine academics still speak well, clearly and that at least in some circles to speak well is an asset, even if it is not a la mode for the townie milling masses.
I guess I should get back to Tacitus. Good bye for now ever dearest diary.
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