The trumpeters threw newspaper at each other and the singer wore broken records around her neck. The Mayor was there and we all bopped to beats created from our own voices by a musical magician who was a pretty funky dancer himself. It was quite a night at the House. Thankfully my earring turned up in my shoe and I hope the sweet lone-dining civil engineer from northern England finds a job and enjoys spending time with his punk-rock twice-removed uncle.
Later, with the boy and the bag finally spoken to, Paradoxical Undressing was heard and disturbed and we returned home to a beautiful table and Big Fish.
And it was a weekend of myriad coincidences, and we made a decision about you, N. Extensive thanks for the tickets.