Sense and sensibility

Well, only one week (and a day) into the new year and I've already
managed to miss a couple of days of blogging. Quite disappointing,
Spence. One hundred lines and a visit to the metaphorical headmaster's
study, methinks. Quite regretable.

Still, a fun week at work what with the snow, the Tories' draft NHS
manifesto, the Hoon et al failed coup and the LibDems' watering down
of their RDA policy. I'll grant you the latter isn't terribly
interesting, but it kept me busy this afternoon. The joys of working
in economic policy, huh?

A wonderful evening spent in a pub in Manchester so wonderful I'm
loathed to even tell you its name, and shared with wonderful friends,
too. (I'm overusing the word wonderful but tough. It's late and it's
how I feel.)

The comestibles of the evening inspired lots of conversation, and my
favourite pithy remark of the night was opening discourse on the
direct relationship between sensibility and alcohol: life is awful
without them, tolerable with them in small doses, fun with them
applied liberally and regularly and only fun for the over-possessed if
professed too forcibly, with everyone else quite bored by the
occasion.

Think of that what you will, but quote me if you use it.

With thanks to JS, LP, KP, KK and the wonderful BL for a splendid
evening: you know who you are. Bon nuit.