Ignore them, you can defeat that tiger!

We got to work on What Kind of Rock yesterday and there is a surprising amount of kick drum slapping for Monica to do. She wrote a very groovy phrase for the chorus that is also very tiring to keep repeating. After we finished she said “of course, you’ll want to play it all faster won’t you.” I must have a very mean streak.

Huw and Manuela have had their bouncing baby boy – Morgan Rees Ruault. Well done them, good work all round.

It was a misty morning as I set off to work today. I like misty mornings, the limited visibility provides the correct degree of false security required for me to be able to walk along indulging in solipsistic reverie. When I was younger and would habitually stumble home at sunup, instinctively avoiding road sweepers and milkmen who might question my tuxedo and jaunty panama, I would happily imagine that this was my own Day of the Triffids and adventure was awaiting me.

I remember the first misty day that really struck me as being remarkable in Swansea. Staying with a Wyndham theme, the mist was thick all along the sea level areas of Swansea and covered the whole bay. From my vantage point atop Constitution Hill you could not see the Kings Way or any streets beyond it, the mist was lapping at the foot of the cobbled road that leads up the hill. Where I was stood was bathed in radiant sunshine, but it was almost completely silent. It reminded me of the John Wyndham book “The Kraken Wakes” in which fog rolls in from the sea and the population of whole towns disappear without trace.

Rhys is coming over tonight for capirinhas, or capiranhagghs as I am beginning to think of them. They make for misty mornings of their own, misty blurred soup spoon smacked on the temple mornings. We of the Frictionless Household love them, except Maurice, she prefers a nice glass of white wine. Picky.