For a year I lived on my own without a television or a computer, and with neighbours who liked Meatloaf. I bought a stereo to drown them out, and also because people kept raving about the new Massive Attack album, and I wanted to hear it.
It wasn’t the first stereo I’ve ever bought myself, but it felt like that sort of deeply significant acquisition, because it signalled that I was here to stay, and wasn’t going to return to Hungary, and therefore wasn’t going to return to my husband.
I set the stereo up all by myself, which obviously isn’t a difficult thing to do, but I wasn’t in the habit of doing such things for myself, you know. And I put 1000th Window into the CD hole and lay down on my lumpy single bed in the dark.
My room turned into a cube of music. I was surrounded by this smooth, deep sound, like a bath or a warm blanket, like a flying carpet, like a shot of whiskey with no ice. The whole album just washed over me, making everything alright.
Now I’m future-proof, breathing air.
Crikey, it’s a long time since I’ve done the cocktails.

So first of all, there’s the Elegant Doctor Pockless, eschewing his usual beer in favour of the Ravishing Ruby. I hope Frau Doktor Pockless doesn’t get jealous.
Troublemaker Lyle is here again, like a bad penny, drinking some foul-sounding cocktail that I suspect he has made up himself. His manners, as always, leave much to be desired.
Against my better judgement, I’m adulterating Musicfinder Mcqn‘s whiskey with coke. Shocking.
For Tough Guy Dragon, who belatedly remembered his Ps & Qs, I am happy to provide that most delicate of winged creatures, a butterfly. Interesting coincidence, of which you shall learn more tomorrow.
For Newly Hyphenated Mike, a quickie, en route as he is for Peru, with barely a moment to drop by and offer us a song. But thank goodness, he managed it at the last moment. He’ll barely have time to say hi to Mr D; observe, they pass like ships in the night.
I’m not entirely convinced that some of you have obeyed Kate’s instructions to the letter. Graybo, for example, seems to be including the garnish; and Gordon has completely misunderstood, but what did you expect? Likewise Mark, likewise Dave. Honestly.
Of course, some people go from one extreme to another: long island ice tea contains way more than three ingredients. Greedy.
You could take a leaf out of Pix’s book, you know. She knows how to mix three things in a bucket.
In fact, I may borrow that bucket, to mix up a Great Big Singapore Sling for kate, Pete and me to share, because it’s Friday, and I’m just about ready for a long cold drink and a couple of days off work.