Stratford Finally

I reach the Pan Conference for the last half day.  Whatever I missed it was worth the effort for Nestor Sullivan's closing speech. In which, at last, someone has the courage and the clout to criticise the status quo. I have often gathered the courage, but having no status in the right place, have left the pan-world an unchanged place. And that's enough talking in tongues, Debs. I bother because I care, and because I think I can make a difference.

This is the first International Steelpan Conference in the UK that I am not speaking at, which is just as well, given Purfleet. Obvioulsy it takes the pressure off, but also it takes the voice away. Anyway, you can't speak at them all. For me, however the agenda was not enough day to day steel pan teaching in the UK, which, above all, Debs, I think you'll agree, is what I do. And is where the future lies.

Thankfully Grafton is here so I get a lift back to Waltham Cross, meet little Skye Melody again. Next morning she learns how to be held on one hip while her parent or one other plays chords with two sticks in one hand.

Now I have tied a tuned steelpan to my blue trolley, and set off for Theobalds Grove. Liverpool Street [should've changed at Seven Sisters, damnit!] . Kings Cross. And the big signs tell me there's signal failure at Newark and environs. Eventually . . I jump on a train for York. The announcer says we'll know the eta after we have crossed the "affected area". It feels like foot and mouth.  But I am late home and then I am late for my Russian lesson.