It's grim up north

Everyone told us there was a heatwave in the UK. But in Yorkshire, the definition of a heatwave is that it's overcast, occasionally spitting rain, and 17C. I didn't pack any warm clothes because of the skimpy Ryanair baggage allowance -- the camera and laptop took priority.

We're visiting S's mum for a few days. I took not a single photo when we were travelling yesterday, so today I was itching to get out and take some. Posters announced a brass band in the village square on Sunday afternoon, so we headed up there. It was advertised for 4 o'clock and you could have set your watch by it -- they started up on the dot, whereas we're used to not even showing up till 20 minutes after the official time.

There were other differences with the bands we are used to. The audience sat in neat rows of chairs. The band played hymns that sounded like dirges, and the audience dutifully stood up and sang along. Admittedly, it was organised by the Methodist Chapel, so there wasn't even going to be any wine involved, just tea and sandwiches in the village hall afterwards. Compare and contrast with brass bands in the Midi.

Still, there's no brass band without reflections in tubas!