No space is sacred

Since we have been home, there has been a lot of jostling for territory in the Ottawacker household. Mainly, I have been the victim. Shunted out of my office, then the basement, I now find myself working in a garret the size of Joan Crawford's ... sorry, listening to too much Derek and Clive. (By the way, à propos, I am friends with the man who did the autopsy on Dudley Moore's brain. He's a leading researcher into Parkinson's. I'm happy to tell you that, while undertaking the autopsy, he was playing Derek and Clive as background music. The things you pick up while working in the government.)

Sorry, where was I? Absolutely no idea....