I should tell you all about the weekend at Wangaratta Jazz & Blues Festival. Before my memories fade I really should write notes about the stand-out acts like Ash Grunwald, Fiona Boyes, James Greening, Han Bennink and Paul Grabowsky, but I won't. You just had to be there. I'm sorry. I'm just feeling lazy. The best I'll do is point you to some photos I took while I was there.
I'm feeling lazy because I actually had to do some manual labour. [Insert shocked gasp here.] It was just as well Monday and Tuesday were holidays for me.
I strove mightily with furniture of great weight to restore the items of worship to the house of the Virge. The great white frost-free altar had to be reinstalled in its niche and re-consecrated. The sacred video cabinet had to be returned to its rightful place in time for the Buffywatch Sacrament.
Yea, even unto the garden was I driven to till the soil, lay low the mountains and raise up the valleys in order to prepare the way for the coming of the shed. By the sweat of my brow have I wrought this flat earth - a final resting place for the garden booth.
(Ok, I know that didn't take all Monday afternoon and all Tuesday. I spent the rest of my time catching up on browsing and chatting. What did you expect?)