Leave it aht, son….

Claudio Ranieri, they say in certain football circles, is a tinkerer. How we scoff at his prodding and poking. Can he not see it’s all best left alone?
Well, I scoff no more. Heated internal wrangling has made me admit that I am a tinkerer. A low-down, thesaurus-cruising, meddler. See…I used the thesaurus at that moment, when tinkerer would have done – but for the slight possibility that it’s not, actually, a word. Oh, wait, Chambers says it is. Thank you Chambers, you may run the bath now.
Casting aside the silliness it is a serious admission I make that I cannot leave well alone. Advice garnered from the intercreche suggests I should just forge ahead, resolving to, er, resolve the inconsistencies and glaring omissions at a later date. Get some body in the beast before you try to cook it’s haunch, would be the general idea. So I try, but I can’t help just re-writing bits when inside I know full well it’ll all have to be re-written at a later date.
Discipline (or as some US vice president hopeful might have wrote, ‘Discpline”) should be my watchword. I can’t have added more than a few hundred words today – a feeble effort.
I shall address this.

After Sounds of the Seventies…


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