Events, dear boy. Events.

I was all set to be a good little blogger this month. i.e. Actually posting something. Unfortunately we had a little collapsing in the garden drama, ambulance action, and hospital visiting, which resulted in the Old Man getting unexpectedly equipped with a pacemaker.

Someone explain to me how its battery will last years without the need to recharge by plugging him in at night until his nose stops flashing. And why can't we use it for cordless drills?

Anyway, there we are. He seems a lot better for it, once they sorted out the clash between his natural samba rhythm and the newly installed 3/4 time... Frankly, though, it's a rather too stressful means of receiving BUPA-speed service via the NHS for my personal taste.

In the meantime, ponder the wisdom (or not) of Plymouth University splashing the cash on some Makepeace chairs. As an educational establishment, I can't help feeling it's a shame they're not encouraging a newly qualified furniture maker or student rather than the old guard. (And as someone whose experience of sitting in a Makepeace-designed chair for any length of time was a painful one, I can't help wondering if the faculty's collective behinds may rue the decision as the graduation ceremonies drag on...)