The big salsa night is here and I have decided to stay home. My singing voice is returning but dance energy is still lacking; best not to chance a relapse.
Midnight Mass was enjoyable as usual. The nave and side aisles were packed and the convivial atmosphere compensated for my strained voice and barely audible top E. I drove in the morning through blinding rain on the M1 and M25 and arrived at Lorna's at the same time as Lawrence, Sarah, Hannah and Thomas. There's great comfort in knowing of the existence of a once a year extended family; Eve arrived in the evening and Vora and Alison on Boxing Day. Vora's chauvinism towards Barbados rum as opposed to the inferior rough stuff from Jamaica was most amusing.
The tradition of a long Boxing Day walk across Two Tree Island, Hadleigh Fields and Belfairs Woods was suspended this year; that bloody cold made me feel too weak. A gentle stroll along the Old Town and cinder path with L and T was all I could manage. Shirley, Lorna's friend of thirty odd years, came to lunch the following day. For the first time ever a great log jam in family communication was loosened, and I was able, in the presence of Lorna and Tariq, to explain the miserable effects of our mad old mother's ridiculous ways without being straightway silenced. Shirley's suggestion that Mum may not have been all that bright, in addition to being an obsessive 'windup', helped break that particular taboo. At last it is permissible to dismiss Hazel Nelken as an all round disaster on the maternal front without risking condemnation as an unworldly brat. What a relief.
Called in at Colston en route home to find Olly slowly recovering from his cold and preparing to go to London to finalise his CD. Beyond a wreath on the front door there were barely any signs of Christmas at Bridget's house. On return home I felt compelled to add to my comments on Jonathan's strange pieces of work. I do not want to upset him, but he should know that his disdain of 'conventional' history probably stems from his not having read very much of it. He might even deign to read the draft of my book now. That way he would at last understand that I long ago reached the cul de sac confronting anyone who tries to return to some mythical lo -tech rural olden days. Jonathan's journey in that direction has been purely cerebral, presenting him with an ever open and gilded vista.
Have just now finished Sheehan's book. My revision of the Jesus chapter will refer to the myriad layers of Christology to be read in the New Testament, which layers have been clarified by Sheehan, but I will still focus principally on the unmistakeable 'End of Days' bits.
Late seasonal greetings continue to arrive; an e.mail from Vittore, a card from Francoise and a pic of the grandchildren from Franca. Lorna is right. Franca genuinely loves news about the extended family and asks about Marek and Sabina's wedding as well as Irina and Mauri. WIll begin serious 'Jesus' revision tomorrow.
Saturday 29 December 2007
Tuesday 25 December 2007
Christmas Morning Early
My voice has survived the singing of Midnight Mass, though top Es were a struggle. Hopefully, by Epiphany I should be back on song, and even, with good fortune, back on dance by Saturday, 29th December for Wilson's final do of the year.
But five days since my last entry and, despite this mildly debilitating cold slowing me right down, life has been pleasantly varied and rewarding. For the first time on Friday, the last day of term, I covered for a history lesson. It was gratifying that, even at that stage the students were receptive to my tales, songs and DVD which related the effects on my family of the big, bad guys on their syllabus. Mussolini and Hitler were only just in their graves when I was born and Stalin had five more years to live, but for Y12 students, born in 1991, all three would be as remote as Queen Victoria is to me.
Amy Eftekari kindly invited me to a Christmas party at Isis to see her singing with her band. Her beautiful genuine smile is a great asset in that job. She engaged her audience, persuaded them to dance and her band maintained the momentum throughout. Olly, like me, has a rotten cold. We were both loafing and dozing early this evening before he went to town to meet his mates and I set off to Southwell. He has some reservations about leaving the security of the Marines for the vagaries of freelance entertaining; I am confident, however, that his determination will secure him, if not wealth and fame, at least an interesting and viable living. It would be great if his CD, due for release in 2008, were to sell well and come to wide, public and broadcast notice.
Were he to be in Afghanistan when it makes its impact that would certainly be a good 'story'.
On the subject of stories, Jonathan Coope sent me some extracts from his Ph. D. thesis and asked for my comments. I was able only to be honest, though it was pleasant to know that my opinion might be valued. His work has an unpleasant and rather weird air. He appears to assume that no historians understand that mankind is an integral part of the natural world; that we are not its master. My guess is, and it is now becoming a modestly well informed guess, is that his assumption arises from his disdaining to read any history books. He gravitates to anything which confirms his view that man is a vandal and a menace; that only a small elite really understand the depth of the looming ecological crisis, and that most of us fail to notice our relationship with other living creatures.
I look forward to putting him right; to explaining the benefits of global capitalism and industrial expansion.
My first known Christmas present is a book token. Thanks Olly. I have loads to read for the holiday period, but must sleep for afew hours now before setting off for Lorna's.
But five days since my last entry and, despite this mildly debilitating cold slowing me right down, life has been pleasantly varied and rewarding. For the first time on Friday, the last day of term, I covered for a history lesson. It was gratifying that, even at that stage the students were receptive to my tales, songs and DVD which related the effects on my family of the big, bad guys on their syllabus. Mussolini and Hitler were only just in their graves when I was born and Stalin had five more years to live, but for Y12 students, born in 1991, all three would be as remote as Queen Victoria is to me.
Amy Eftekari kindly invited me to a Christmas party at Isis to see her singing with her band. Her beautiful genuine smile is a great asset in that job. She engaged her audience, persuaded them to dance and her band maintained the momentum throughout. Olly, like me, has a rotten cold. We were both loafing and dozing early this evening before he went to town to meet his mates and I set off to Southwell. He has some reservations about leaving the security of the Marines for the vagaries of freelance entertaining; I am confident, however, that his determination will secure him, if not wealth and fame, at least an interesting and viable living. It would be great if his CD, due for release in 2008, were to sell well and come to wide, public and broadcast notice.
Were he to be in Afghanistan when it makes its impact that would certainly be a good 'story'.
On the subject of stories, Jonathan Coope sent me some extracts from his Ph. D. thesis and asked for my comments. I was able only to be honest, though it was pleasant to know that my opinion might be valued. His work has an unpleasant and rather weird air. He appears to assume that no historians understand that mankind is an integral part of the natural world; that we are not its master. My guess is, and it is now becoming a modestly well informed guess, is that his assumption arises from his disdaining to read any history books. He gravitates to anything which confirms his view that man is a vandal and a menace; that only a small elite really understand the depth of the looming ecological crisis, and that most of us fail to notice our relationship with other living creatures.
I look forward to putting him right; to explaining the benefits of global capitalism and industrial expansion.
My first known Christmas present is a book token. Thanks Olly. I have loads to read for the holiday period, but must sleep for afew hours now before setting off for Lorna's.
Thursday 20 December 2007
A Quickie
For the first time I am writing away from home; a full four miles away, in Bilborough College. After the lunchtime Carol Service and with the first two chapters of Albert Schweitzer's 'Mystery' read for the first time, I feel much more kindly disposed towards the Christian Union.
Shweitzer, it appears, had forsworn everything in Christianity that was supernatural, that demanded a 'leap of faith'. Christianity had infused him with a mission to improve our life on earth by whatever practical means. He had relegated Jesus' miraculous cures of leprosy to the level of propaganda myth, and spent much of his own life assisting leprosy victims by means of his own science based skills.
The welcoming atmosphere, the smiles and and sweet singing of the students; strong, articulate students who are set to become tomorrow's leaders, filled me with optimism; as did the joy of last night's dancers at the 'Up and Down Under Bar'. Jenny and Rosanna had obviously enjoyed their first visit, the post Belvoir visit with me 10 days ago, as they were both there last night.
Shweitzer, it appears, had forsworn everything in Christianity that was supernatural, that demanded a 'leap of faith'. Christianity had infused him with a mission to improve our life on earth by whatever practical means. He had relegated Jesus' miraculous cures of leprosy to the level of propaganda myth, and spent much of his own life assisting leprosy victims by means of his own science based skills.
The welcoming atmosphere, the smiles and and sweet singing of the students; strong, articulate students who are set to become tomorrow's leaders, filled me with optimism; as did the joy of last night's dancers at the 'Up and Down Under Bar'. Jenny and Rosanna had obviously enjoyed their first visit, the post Belvoir visit with me 10 days ago, as they were both there last night.
Wednesday 19 December 2007
Nearly Christmas
http://www.oculture.com/2007/07/free_podcasts_of_university_courses_75_courses_and_growing.html
has been the greatest revelation since my last entry. Thomas Sheehan's lectures on the Historical Jesus were pointed out to me by Peter Lawley. There are 10 * 90 minute lectures by a prof. from Stanford University, downloadable via itunes. The first four have already determined, in part, the upcoming revision of my Jesus chapter. Although Mr. Sheehan, unlike Albert Shweitzer, does not think that Jesus himself believed that the End of the World was near, he can see quite clearly how the canon of four gospels, plus the rest of the New Testament have led to, and continue to inspire, that conviction.
I will make no attempt to recreate the flesh and blood Jesus, still less to proclaim his true message; after all I have no Greek, no Hebrew, and no Aramaic. My story will still be the persistence of the myth of original perfection and the predetermined end of wickedness. Christianity is but one, albeit a powerful and enduring, purveyor of that myth.
Sheehan's is the most lucid account I have yet come across that cuts through myth to the history beneath. Further, he has persuaded me to buy, and fortunately they are cheap secondhand, a series of books which claim that even the Kingdom of David and Solomon, as well as the original temple, are themselves part of a larger Jewish myth. Did the Jews per se, and not solely their Resurrection and End of Days beliefs, only 'begin' with the Persian occupation of the Holy Land? There will be some clarity on this, in my mind, and on this blog, early in the New Year.
Christmas cards, save that to Franca and family in Miami, are now dispatched, so should arrive before the day. Some were distributed by hand at Monday's milonga. Katya is a most trusting partner; it is lovely to find someone with whom to speak Russian as well as to dance. Mondays can be quite polyglot as I exercise my French with Claire and even some Italian with Carima. Dancing with Anna, and, to my shame I have no 'ancestral' Polish to share with her, was a reminder of how much I need that 'tango mango'; my signals are, as yet, most indistinct.
Bilborough work has been welcome and has kept me from gathering holly and buying those few Christmas presents on my list. Before going dancing tonight I shall bash my Southwell Christmas notes and run through my jazz chord exercises. 2008 will see an increase in 'electric' pupils, the building of a residual income, the publication of my first book as well as real competence and confidence in tango.
has been the greatest revelation since my last entry. Thomas Sheehan's lectures on the Historical Jesus were pointed out to me by Peter Lawley. There are 10 * 90 minute lectures by a prof. from Stanford University, downloadable via itunes. The first four have already determined, in part, the upcoming revision of my Jesus chapter. Although Mr. Sheehan, unlike Albert Shweitzer, does not think that Jesus himself believed that the End of the World was near, he can see quite clearly how the canon of four gospels, plus the rest of the New Testament have led to, and continue to inspire, that conviction.
I will make no attempt to recreate the flesh and blood Jesus, still less to proclaim his true message; after all I have no Greek, no Hebrew, and no Aramaic. My story will still be the persistence of the myth of original perfection and the predetermined end of wickedness. Christianity is but one, albeit a powerful and enduring, purveyor of that myth.
Sheehan's is the most lucid account I have yet come across that cuts through myth to the history beneath. Further, he has persuaded me to buy, and fortunately they are cheap secondhand, a series of books which claim that even the Kingdom of David and Solomon, as well as the original temple, are themselves part of a larger Jewish myth. Did the Jews per se, and not solely their Resurrection and End of Days beliefs, only 'begin' with the Persian occupation of the Holy Land? There will be some clarity on this, in my mind, and on this blog, early in the New Year.
Christmas cards, save that to Franca and family in Miami, are now dispatched, so should arrive before the day. Some were distributed by hand at Monday's milonga. Katya is a most trusting partner; it is lovely to find someone with whom to speak Russian as well as to dance. Mondays can be quite polyglot as I exercise my French with Claire and even some Italian with Carima. Dancing with Anna, and, to my shame I have no 'ancestral' Polish to share with her, was a reminder of how much I need that 'tango mango'; my signals are, as yet, most indistinct.
Bilborough work has been welcome and has kept me from gathering holly and buying those few Christmas presents on my list. Before going dancing tonight I shall bash my Southwell Christmas notes and run through my jazz chord exercises. 2008 will see an increase in 'electric' pupils, the building of a residual income, the publication of my first book as well as real competence and confidence in tango.
Sunday 16 December 2007
Sunday Morning Early (not Saturday)
I have slept my fill; five hours after Wilson and Cleon's party at 'Escucha' on Friday, two hours after a cidery Saturday lunch and six hours last night.
Friday night was yet another confirmation of the wisdom of that closing sentiment in Angela Carter's 'Wise Children' - What a Joy it is to Dance and Sing'. Our Christmas and Epiphany music for Southwell is sublime (or at least it will be when I have bashed those chromatic notes accurately into my head and am able to watch the boss and attend to the line and the dynamics). After a brief drink with Andrew, Julie, Robin, David and Sue at the Hearty Good Fellow I headed for 'Escucha' in Nottingham and three hours dancing. So many cheerful and familiar faces; so many lovely dancing partners.
Dancing the bachata with Anna made me truly understand the meaning of Irving Berlin's 'Cheek to Cheek', for all that Berlin's lyrics probably refer to the embrace of a slow foxtrot and the tune usually accompanies a quickstep. What is more the bachata hold is more 'thigh to thigh' than 'cheek to cheek' but those words say it all:
'Heaven, I'm in Heaven - And the cares that hang around me through the week - Seem to vanish like a gambler's lucky streak - When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek....'
Anna is light and flexible to a quite magical degree, yet is possessed of a powerful engine that belies her slender physique....
The Christmas edition of the Spectator has a page full of 'celebrity' comments on the veracity of the virgin birth. So many of them, including the Archbishop of Canterbury and Charles Moore, see a belief in this strange tale as central to Christian faith. Albert Schweitzer, the 'rational, scientific, modern German Protestant' had thought otherwise 100 years ago. I warmed to James Delingpole's comment; his style of Anglicanism was concerned above all with singing the hymns to the right tunes and conforming to the 1662 Prayer Book; the Virgin Birth, like theology generally, was of no great moment in his religious practice.
The whole article called to mind, again, that 'Grill a Christian' session at Bilborough a fortnight ago. The main spokesman had declared the Trinity was an essential article of faith, without which Christianity falls apart. Had he not heard of the Arian 'heresy' and of Isaac Newton's dissent from this one of Anglicanism's 39 articles? Had he not noticed the Unitarian chapels which are spread all over the land, never mind the Christadelphian and Jehovah's Witness meeting halls?
Those last two, plus Newton, see the imminence of Armageddon and the Day of Judgement as central to their belief and practice. So many American Christians see support for Israel and the ultimate destruction of the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem to make way for a restored Jewish Temple as the main aim of their movement. Then there are all those communists; true Christians must abjure private property, and not merely by delegating communal living to afew monks and nuns who are bound by vows of poverty. Hutterites, Winstanley, Pere de Lamennais and Wilhelm Weitling thought private property the Devil's work.
Make of the Gospels what you will. I look forward to seeing what Schweitzer made of Jesus' styling himself 'The Son of Man'. Before that I must bake some goodies for tomorrow's milonga, write my Christmas cards, distribute business cards at Calverton Car Boot, clear the desk and do the ironing.
Friday night was yet another confirmation of the wisdom of that closing sentiment in Angela Carter's 'Wise Children' - What a Joy it is to Dance and Sing'. Our Christmas and Epiphany music for Southwell is sublime (or at least it will be when I have bashed those chromatic notes accurately into my head and am able to watch the boss and attend to the line and the dynamics). After a brief drink with Andrew, Julie, Robin, David and Sue at the Hearty Good Fellow I headed for 'Escucha' in Nottingham and three hours dancing. So many cheerful and familiar faces; so many lovely dancing partners.
Dancing the bachata with Anna made me truly understand the meaning of Irving Berlin's 'Cheek to Cheek', for all that Berlin's lyrics probably refer to the embrace of a slow foxtrot and the tune usually accompanies a quickstep. What is more the bachata hold is more 'thigh to thigh' than 'cheek to cheek' but those words say it all:
'Heaven, I'm in Heaven - And the cares that hang around me through the week - Seem to vanish like a gambler's lucky streak - When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek....'
Anna is light and flexible to a quite magical degree, yet is possessed of a powerful engine that belies her slender physique....
The Christmas edition of the Spectator has a page full of 'celebrity' comments on the veracity of the virgin birth. So many of them, including the Archbishop of Canterbury and Charles Moore, see a belief in this strange tale as central to Christian faith. Albert Schweitzer, the 'rational, scientific, modern German Protestant' had thought otherwise 100 years ago. I warmed to James Delingpole's comment; his style of Anglicanism was concerned above all with singing the hymns to the right tunes and conforming to the 1662 Prayer Book; the Virgin Birth, like theology generally, was of no great moment in his religious practice.
The whole article called to mind, again, that 'Grill a Christian' session at Bilborough a fortnight ago. The main spokesman had declared the Trinity was an essential article of faith, without which Christianity falls apart. Had he not heard of the Arian 'heresy' and of Isaac Newton's dissent from this one of Anglicanism's 39 articles? Had he not noticed the Unitarian chapels which are spread all over the land, never mind the Christadelphian and Jehovah's Witness meeting halls?
Those last two, plus Newton, see the imminence of Armageddon and the Day of Judgement as central to their belief and practice. So many American Christians see support for Israel and the ultimate destruction of the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem to make way for a restored Jewish Temple as the main aim of their movement. Then there are all those communists; true Christians must abjure private property, and not merely by delegating communal living to afew monks and nuns who are bound by vows of poverty. Hutterites, Winstanley, Pere de Lamennais and Wilhelm Weitling thought private property the Devil's work.
Make of the Gospels what you will. I look forward to seeing what Schweitzer made of Jesus' styling himself 'The Son of Man'. Before that I must bake some goodies for tomorrow's milonga, write my Christmas cards, distribute business cards at Calverton Car Boot, clear the desk and do the ironing.
Thursday 13 December 2007
A whole week and a welcome flood of cover work has kept me from blogging. At least the New Year's arrival should not see my finances sinking too dramatically, if at all. Olly's September 2008 posting to Afghanistan is, by far, the week's most dramatic news. Fortunately he will be going as part of a band of 15 musicians, so there will be 'official' music as well as driver and medical duties.
Having reflected on Olly's determination to cut himself off from a steady income and guaranteed community, by leaving the Marines in 2009, I feel more at ease with the idea. Although we have much in common, he is far more single minded, more essentially musical, and far better trained for launching himself into the world of professional entertainment than I ever was. Not that my feelings are of any great moment; it is his life that will change; but I had to share with him the sometimes difficult, and steadily impoverishing, results of my own journey in that direction.
It was quite lovely, last weekend, entertaining Marek and Sabina to supper. Having spent my 20s and 30s as well as much of my 40s, with no real contact with parents or siblings, it is great to know that I have a real rapport, not only with 2 sons, but also with a future daughter in law. Sabina sees the light at the end of the City law training tunnel with an MA in prospect. Marek is discovering the difficulties of marketing, but I am confident he will not become so downcast as to give up; his determination to acquire material comfort is matched by expertise and a willingness to learn.
I was surprised to hear of their rental of an apartment on the Belvoir Estate; it is great that he does not want to cut loose from he E. Midlands, and I look forward to w/e visits to Belvoir as much as Marek and Sabina do. My first visit was on Sunday, with 3 dancing partners, en route to a milonga in the Castle. We were shown over a vast, solid and ancient flat with mighty fortress like walls and beautifully proportioned rooms; so many of them I lost count.
AT the milonga the exotic Gothic surroundings, the giant ancestral portraits, the candlelight, Christmas trees and stuffed reindeer, made up for the odd choice of music and crowded dance floor. My half joking suggestion to Jenny, Maria and Rosanna, that we continue our Sunday afternoon's dancing into the evening with some salsa at the 'Up and Down Under' bar in Nottingham, was, amazingly, taken up. We danced thus, almost continuously that day, from 5pm until 11pm; and we will meet again at Wilson's Christmas do tomorrow, in Fletchergate.
I have finally finished Albert Shweitzer's 'historical Jesus' book and am reading a selection of apocryphal gospels while I await Shweitzer's 'The Mystery of the Kingdom of God'. My revision of the 'Jesus' chapter will, if nothing else, be much better informed.
Time for Guitar practice.
Having reflected on Olly's determination to cut himself off from a steady income and guaranteed community, by leaving the Marines in 2009, I feel more at ease with the idea. Although we have much in common, he is far more single minded, more essentially musical, and far better trained for launching himself into the world of professional entertainment than I ever was. Not that my feelings are of any great moment; it is his life that will change; but I had to share with him the sometimes difficult, and steadily impoverishing, results of my own journey in that direction.
It was quite lovely, last weekend, entertaining Marek and Sabina to supper. Having spent my 20s and 30s as well as much of my 40s, with no real contact with parents or siblings, it is great to know that I have a real rapport, not only with 2 sons, but also with a future daughter in law. Sabina sees the light at the end of the City law training tunnel with an MA in prospect. Marek is discovering the difficulties of marketing, but I am confident he will not become so downcast as to give up; his determination to acquire material comfort is matched by expertise and a willingness to learn.
I was surprised to hear of their rental of an apartment on the Belvoir Estate; it is great that he does not want to cut loose from he E. Midlands, and I look forward to w/e visits to Belvoir as much as Marek and Sabina do. My first visit was on Sunday, with 3 dancing partners, en route to a milonga in the Castle. We were shown over a vast, solid and ancient flat with mighty fortress like walls and beautifully proportioned rooms; so many of them I lost count.
AT the milonga the exotic Gothic surroundings, the giant ancestral portraits, the candlelight, Christmas trees and stuffed reindeer, made up for the odd choice of music and crowded dance floor. My half joking suggestion to Jenny, Maria and Rosanna, that we continue our Sunday afternoon's dancing into the evening with some salsa at the 'Up and Down Under' bar in Nottingham, was, amazingly, taken up. We danced thus, almost continuously that day, from 5pm until 11pm; and we will meet again at Wilson's Christmas do tomorrow, in Fletchergate.
I have finally finished Albert Shweitzer's 'historical Jesus' book and am reading a selection of apocryphal gospels while I await Shweitzer's 'The Mystery of the Kingdom of God'. My revision of the 'Jesus' chapter will, if nothing else, be much better informed.
Time for Guitar practice.
Thursday 6 December 2007
A full week and still Josephus and Shweitzer are not yet completed. So many pages; so many words per page and such intensity of thought, characters and action. At least I know I was not the only person mystified by Jesus' constant references to himself as 'The Son of Man'. Discussions about its meaning have occupied theologians' minds for centuries. It is hardly surprising that Chrstians come in such an array of types.
I actually enjoy practising the electric guitar now. My Christmas sonnet is written and the first copy has been distributed. Here it is again:
Christmas Sonnet 2007
O little town pressed up against a wall,
Behind graffitoed slabs the people pine.
Ent’ring Jerus’lem’s no triumph at all,
The checkpoint’s set in steel, a conqu’ror’s sign.
How did Israel’s children reach this pass,
Leaving Ishmael’s family with the dross?
E’en ‘tis clear to one of Hebrew class,
His Kingdom’s come not yet, despite the Cross.
Established from a stable, stable times?
Magi, starstruck, mesmerized, foretold.
The Two State notion’s bovine, asinine;
O Shepherds, shepherd all into one fold.
Were Abram’s people governed side by side
Nativity might meet with Christmastide.
Rowland Nelken 4 December 2007
Business Cards are printed and distribution has begun. Disconsolate looking checkout people are a prime target for potential distributors. I shall go to Calverton Car Boot on Sunday if it's dry. So glad I did not stay in last night to nurse my disappearing cold and feel sorry for myself. Dancing at the Approach was the usual lovely experience. I have booked to go to the Devon Tango Mango in February. That creates a great incentive to gather some customers before then.
The weekend approaches. There is choir practice; Marek and Sabina are coming to supper on Saturday and there's a milonga at Belvoir Castle on Sunday. Hooray.
I actually enjoy practising the electric guitar now. My Christmas sonnet is written and the first copy has been distributed. Here it is again:
Christmas Sonnet 2007
O little town pressed up against a wall,
Behind graffitoed slabs the people pine.
Ent’ring Jerus’lem’s no triumph at all,
The checkpoint’s set in steel, a conqu’ror’s sign.
How did Israel’s children reach this pass,
Leaving Ishmael’s family with the dross?
E’en ‘tis clear to one of Hebrew class,
His Kingdom’s come not yet, despite the Cross.
Established from a stable, stable times?
Magi, starstruck, mesmerized, foretold.
The Two State notion’s bovine, asinine;
O Shepherds, shepherd all into one fold.
Were Abram’s people governed side by side
Nativity might meet with Christmastide.
Rowland Nelken 4 December 2007
Business Cards are printed and distribution has begun. Disconsolate looking checkout people are a prime target for potential distributors. I shall go to Calverton Car Boot on Sunday if it's dry. So glad I did not stay in last night to nurse my disappearing cold and feel sorry for myself. Dancing at the Approach was the usual lovely experience. I have booked to go to the Devon Tango Mango in February. That creates a great incentive to gather some customers before then.
The weekend approaches. There is choir practice; Marek and Sabina are coming to supper on Saturday and there's a milonga at Belvoir Castle on Sunday. Hooray.
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