A century of ancient ritual games but who's counting?
Rather than watch this I'm watching the one millionth rerun of the Blues Brothers on ITV4 in HD, must be a slow Wednesday evening. I should really be writing songs, making daal or at the very least practising on my Algerian nose flute. I blame the persistent evil of the dram, the fine and spiky taste of Stilton and the black black open sky spinning high above my lazy head.
Earlier in the evening I went to my daughter's art exhibition in the Queendom of Fife; superb of course and here and there there were strawberries, M&Ms and cocktail sausages. Things have changed a lot in the forty years since I attended that type of full time education. Just as well.