In my part of the world, even shopping can be quite a surreal experience. Today for example, Mr Penry and I ventured into our local Lidl's which has begun stocking up on Christmas fare in earnest.

Some of this exotic stuff is, unfortunately, completely lost on the customers (or at least, some of them). And I don't mean when they get in a consignment of Squid in its own ink or anything weird like that. The following conversation occurred, believe it or not, between two women who'd suddenly found themselves confronted with a freezer full of crabs.
'Oooh, look at that. It looks like a crab.'
'Mm. I think it is a crab.'
'I've never had one of those.'
'Me neither. Do you think it's cooked?'
'Can't be. It doesn't look cooked.'
'I wonder how you cooked it then?'
They scratched their heads over this for a few moment. 'Maybe you have to boil it.'
'Nah,' said the other one, 'The shell would explode....'

Honest, you couldn't make it up!

My internet connection has been dire for the past twelve hours. It has driven me well and truly up the wall. So apologies for not properly catching up with your blogs. I shall try again later.

The final version of this piece of music came through later on the same day at about 4.35 in the afternoon. I’d gone to the keyboard to listen again to the piece as I’d recorded it. It never occurred to me that the music hadn't finished yet!

But as it played it I could hear yet another flute part. This really surprised me but I wrote it down anyway and recorded that too. (I also wrote down my account of how the music came through to me.)

I had the impression that the piece was written for springtime (hence the cuckoo) by a music teacher for his pupils. I received much stronger visual images than usual – trees, a misty morning.

But perhaps the most interesting thing I should mention here is that when music comes through in this way I feel really dizzy and faint all day afterwards.

So now I suppose there’s one burning question – where does the music come from?

I wish I knew the answer.