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This is may be the fourth of fifth attempt at writing a blog entry.

The first attempt was about lies, or to be specific: the lies I tell myself. The entry was one of self-disclosure, ending with the axiom we all lie and so do I. I began to worry if I said something along the line of ‘After all I’m only human’ Spo-fans would immediately think I’ve committed adultery and their next thought would be with whom and how often.  It was scuttled lest I ruin my good Henley Street name.

The second attempt was an update on various things about the house in disrepair and in desperate need of attention but it sounded more kvetching than humor.  It too was scuttled.

The third was a loose tirade on office politics which was nixed by You-Know-Who faster than you can say “Snorri  Sturluson”.

The fourth draft was a morass of gunge, the equivalent of world salad.

So that was that.

There will be no performance of The Red Shoes tonight.

Tomorrow Someone and I start a lecture series on Opera 101 appreciation. The course is being taught in a bookstore, where beverages are allowed including wine and beer. Opera, books, and beer all under the same roof – what’s not to love about that? Whether it’s funny or not I will give you a full report this weekend.

Meanwhile, keep calm and carry on. Avoid wickedness and profligate pastimes. Never trust trout and kiss no toads.

All right officers, I’ll come quietly.

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