It would appear that sitting on a stone bench playing guitar for an hour in the shade, in a temperature of 13 degrees celsius allows the cold to infiltrate the body. We all live and learn every day. Either that or we get a little less intelligent as time goes by. I’m sticking with the former.

And so there I was, doing my thing for the good citizens of South King Street, when the fingers started to behave a little differently. There was only thing for it. Bags were packed and a couple of sharp left turns led me to plonk my beloved rear end down in a cushy spot in The Great Institution of Chatham Street. A pint of the black stuff, helped along by a very tasty chicken ciabatta and fries aided the defrosting process.

Later, back at The Ranch, the thawing out continued. It seems that it’s a slow process.

Dearie me.