My mysterious absence over the last two weeks is explained
here (two entries published so far; three more TK—one for each day of the week sort of thing).
Two weeks in a five-star hotel was very nice indeed, thank you very much. That it happened to be the one in which Madonna stayed (though I had absolutely no idea—I was totally jetlagged the night we slept under the same roof), and that we were woken one morning (not that it was early) by screaming fans of the group (adopts old-style high-court judge intonation) "Westlife" was merely an added bonus. R, whose knowledge of pop culture is gained exclusively by walking through the room when I’m watching television, asked a young girlie who on earth Westlife were. The young woman just proffered a photo of the group that she happened to be holding. R just nodded and said, “Ah!”
Actually, my biggest thrill was seeing so many Mancunian males sporting the “funky chop” haircut. Not because I liked it, but because I can finally picture WTP is going on with
K’s hair.
