A Whirl

The next couple of weeks in the Life of Nige can fairly be described as a whirl. I'm on holiday (yes, again - I know) and will be gadding about madly from one part of the country to another, and next week over the sea (under it rather) to Normandy. In fact as I write I am just back from a wedding in rural Berkshire, which at one point threatened to turn into a Richard Curtis movie, as, having boarded a train from Reading travelling in the precisely opposite direction from that announced (my strongly worded letter to the Chairman of British Railways will soon be in the post), I found myself in a taxi racing against time to reach the appointed rendezvous - I could feel myself growing more Hugh Grantish by the minute (I made it, by the way, with seconds to spare). At the reception, in a large and notably well converted barn, I tragically let slip another opportunity to learn to line dance - really I'm my own worst enemy. One day, one day... In the course of the festivities I realised once again just how supremely wonderful a song is Wilson Pickett's Land of a Thousand Dances - even for those of us who have no idea how do the pony like Bony Moronie, let alone tackle the mashed potato, the alligator or the watutsi. One day... Or perhaps not. Be that as it may, I hope to be posting from time to time when I have the opportunity.