Wittgenstein once wrote (this might be inaccurate because I can’t be bothered to look it up) “It has been impossible for me to write one word in my book about all that music has meant to me in my life. How then can I hope to be understood?”

Which says all that needs to be said.

However. I’ve discovered Alice Martineau, Mike Scott, and Oysterband, and a few others thanks to Peter B.

Life sounds better to music.

And red wine makes me maudlin :o)

Where are our dear fathers?
Where are our dear fathers?
They have gone to heaven shouting.
They have gone to heaven shouting.

(Photos taken on holiday in Wales.)