I sidled down to Oxford lately to delve into the library in search for the hand-feeler-tentacled lizard of Cutcliffe Hyne (1898):
But I also found time to hang out with Matt Winkworth, the cat-headed multi-coloured lamp God of East Oxford:
I was fortunate to be in his ad hoc choir, recording a few of his theatrical numbers for a demo which you can already listen to here:
It was an amazing experience singing for Matt, who’s a consummate MD but a clear inferior to yours truly in the realm of Mario Kart. Thursday, I was steering the Catweazle Club for the second week in a row, and was overjoyed by the talented performers and listeners who braved Siberian temperatures to warm up our corner of the East Oxford Community Centre.
Yesterday evening, I concluded my Oxford interlude by visiting what I hesitate to call Team Caldecott’s annual-ish Music Box gig. I think I’ve raved about Ditte Elly on here before, but you really do need to listen to her if you haven’t already:
Here is a nice picture of her and Rosie being excellent.
The next morning, which was this morning for those of you not keeping track, we all went out for a lovely breakfast together, except that these two didn’t bloody turn up. So it was left to James Bell and Laura and Luke and Phoebe and I to drink infinite tea and speak pleasantly of the world and Game of Thrones and politics and Game of Thrones and religion and Game of Thrones.