The space that once was Baird's

The thing about ranting is that it needs to be done at least on the day of the thing to be ranted about and certainly before you've gone to sleep. You wake up and it's gone all moderate and reasonable. That doesn't make the support act for Gil Scott-Heron any better. They were still a confused mix of 1980s Grandmaster Flash samples and drum machine, Salt n Pepa / Neneh Cherry and sometimes Amy Winehouse vocals and the look of a chubby Lily Allan supported by a Vanilla Ice DJ who forgot to dye his hair. New Zealand's finest, it seems. Nor does it make the sound engineer any more competent.

But the price of getting a decent night's sleep after the ant slaughter was that I failed in my new goal of getting up at 5.30 to restart the piano practice / playing that never really got very well started about 10 years ago. That daft idea started when I said in a previous rant that I didn't mind getting up early and, in fact, would get up earlier if I had a good reason. Seems like a good reason. Realistically, there's not enough inclination, time or peace in the evenings to do that kind of thing. In the morning I have the house to myself, a digital piano and a pair of headphones. Tomorrow, for sure.