These Things Take Time

Rejoice! Rejoice.
Thanks to a recent article in The Independent and in this month's Uncut, we hear the stupendous news of a new album from The Blue Nile, release date being August 30th. I haven't been this excited about a new album coming out for many years.
By the way, while the story was in the magazine format of Uncut, I couldn't easily find it on their web site, so try The Indie for info on this one.
On the domestic front, the boy has been attending a summer sailing school this week. And, no, this shouldn't conjure up any Henley Regatta image, being funded as it is by the New Deal for Communities (NDC) scheme, which was established by the Labour government since it was elected in 1997. And a great scheme it is too, going solely by how it has had an impact on our own deprived community.
Bundles of (useful) information have come through the door since this scheme was established here around 2 years ago, always with the emphasis on how local people can get involved and have a direct say in changing and improving local services and local resources.
So, for those who rage against Labour and ask what good has it done, I'll always use the New Deal for Communities scheme as an example of what makes Labour fundamentally different from the other lot.
Back to the boy, then, the NDC carry out numerous out of school activities for local children and someone came up with the absolutely fantastic idea of the sailing club. Apart from the fact that it is a lot cheaper than the alternative play scheme options, it's a healthy activity and a great way of occupying a little part of the badly underused Thames.
We have this great waterway cutting its way through the most beautiful city in the world, yet its empty of traffic - traffic which is considerably less damaging to our environment than that on the roads.
I received a totally unexpected late-night visit from oldest brother last night. He was on his way home to Glasgow from Tokyo and missed his connecting flight at Heathrow. So Reidski puts him up and shares an enjoyable glass of whisky over tales of his hols before departing to bed.
Talking of bed...when Hats comes to an end on the turntable and I polish off the last of the Oyster Bay sauvignon blanc, then I'll hit the sack.
Not before I briefly mention my trip to the doctors this afternoon, however.
My weird swallowing problem is not one that he could handle, so he's making an emergency referral to a throat specialist at the hospital. "Whooppee!" was the cry from 'er indoors when I said jokingly that I would probably have to get my voice box removed.