The crumbly concrete fiasco rumbling up and down the country has finally landed at my desk, which comes as no surprise. I imagine the extent of my involvement will be limited to drawing crisp red lines around photographs of schools to indicate which parts are, and which are not in imminent danger - Information that has been available for goodness knows how long but has obviously never been presented in pictorial format, simple enough for government ministers to get their little heads around.
Bless!

Meanwhile my favourite local boy-band was playing in an intimate but airy riverside venue. We were treated, most unusually, to the final two verses of Seven Drunken Nights, quite probably because the audience was so tiny that the band knew all of us by name so we were unlikely to report them for obscenity.