There is barely going to be a blog today, because I have only just got back from the Colchester Folk Club and it's a quarter to midnight. If I haven't pressed the Publish button in the next fifteen minutes then that's it, it will be tomorrow. Why the folk club insists on arranging its affairs so that by the time I've dropped my father off in Wivenhoe and got home it is the middle of the night, especially as they meet on a Monday which is not a traditional late night given people have to be at work in the morning, is a source of perpetual mystery to me.
So my review of Nancy Kerr and James Fagan will have to wait until tomorrow. Maybe not even then if something else catches my eye in the meantime.
As I drove up to the anti-rabbit gate just now a large and fat rabbit ran away into our neighbours' field, on the outside of the gate, proof that at least sometimes it does some good. It is rather demoralising otherwise to think of the faff we go to trotting down to open it in the mornings before the postman can arrive, and going out in the rain to shut it at night, when there's no sign of marauding bunnies to demonstrate that it is at least protecting the garden from something.
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