Orwellian

You find me on this Friday morning clinging desperately to a gossamer thin strand of hope that brings with it a gradual easing of lockdown - if not before the first cuckoo then hopefully the second. Or maybe the third...

Whilst many, I'm sure, see this enforced incarceration and privation as nothing more than a violent tilt of life's pinball machine, some will, I hope, see it as a chance to start over. Wipe the slate; reset the controls; make peace with their fellow man; whatever.

However we pick up the pieces of our old lives and begin to navigate the new uncharted landscape, I hope we all try and do it a little more peacefully than last time; a little bit quieter than last time; and also with a degree of humility. We don't own this world, we're just keeping the seats warm before the next lot come in.

And when the shackles are finally removed I know everyone will be planning holidays, visiting family and friends we haven't seen for months and generally making up for lost time. Just writing this is triggering all sorts of flash forwards. And, like you, I'm already making a random list in my head of places to go, people to meet. More on that to come, I'm sure. But where will I go first? That's easy. I'll see you in The Moon Under Water, where it's always quiet enough to talk. Can I buy you a drink?

In the meantime, keep staying safe.

All that money and they live like pigs

Trough not pictured

A little over ten years after the publication of Animal Farm and two young piglets, in true Orwellian style, took over the nation's TV screens and refused to budge. However, unlike Napoleon and Snowball, Pinky & Perky made a right song and dance about it. Week in, week out.

They even predated the Now That's What I Call Music brand by releasing their own versions of the hits of the day. In 1974, just when you thought Paper Lace had scraped the bottom of the MOR barrel with Billy Don't Be A Hero, our two little piggies took it to market and then put it through their very own sausage machine.