Another room with a view - this time the other side as a storm gathers overhead. I love a good thunder storm, the noise, the lightening the sheer brute force of nature with the hump at the world for being so blooming wonderful. Little does it know we love this too. But that was last night and this morning has bloomed into warm Spanish sunlight and later I will give my paper, quoting Brecht and Euripides on conjoining critical and creative research (needs must if we are to change academic opinion there). But hey ho, its not another day at the coalface and I am still taking my Dad's idea to 'work on the surface'. And I found myself listening to this as I read myself to sleep last night, just the music to calm a storm. I always celebrated my mother's birthday a day later than everyone else, it was a joke between us. She would have been eighty-one today (yesterday really) and she loved music:
