How odd Mort!
I keep having disjointed bits of dreams which make no sense - fragments of things not connected at all.  Usually, my dreams do at least have some sort of narrative structure.

Gosh, I've been having some strange and colourful dreams lately! Last night I had to go to an audition. When I got there I discovered that the play was to be performed in Scottish dialect but no one had told me previously. I was about to leave because I thought there was no way I could sustain the dialect for the entire play. At which point Ron appeared, said 'Of course you can' and ushered me into the audition room where I sat next to a pianola. The next thing I knew I was in a train station, didn't have a clue where I was. 'It's Slough. You'' be fine getting back' said Ron and then disappeared with two ginger haired children. The train I needed left from the opposite platform but I was told I couldn't get on it because it was a 'Football Special', I'd have to wait for the next one.

Spot the r3ok references!

Hey hh leave me your phone number and I'll call you in the middle of the night. That should take care of another warm feeling, no doubt.

For the Grumpy Rant Room, which I'm too lazy to go to: I had to miss the performance of hh's piece at Darmstadt because I was volunteered to be a page turner for the concert that night, meaning that I had to be in a dress rehearsal as well. Since when does a music-reading page turner need to be at a dress rehearsal? I would have said 'no' if I'd known that these were the circumstances. Then again, I did get to meet a very nice pianist named Christoph Grund.

On the balance, though, I'd have preferred to meet him just before the performance, and heard Love Songs instead.

Why have I obtained the reputation of being a reliable page turner? Maybe I should start working actively against that blemishpoxblight upon my personality. I guess that would mean severely foreshortening my arms, arm length being considered a significant plus in the eyes of the people who are eternally on the prowl for page turners.

 

Sorry, I can't help myself...

...wouldn't it have been quicker with a shovel?

(IGMC)

I'll leave you to do the googling: I can't remember it all off by heart.

'This is my pen.
I'll dig with it.'

Is that it? Something like that anyway.

Revisiting a topic from MANY months ago re Ash Wednesday, which I've only just seen - I must not have been reading this thread at the time:
Personally, I feel that I can't walk out of church on Ash Wednesday with ash still on my face - not after (as is usual on Ash Wednesday) having listened during the service to that reading from Matthew about not making a big public spectacle about one's religious observance.