Down with that sort of thing; careful now.

Not rambled enough hereabouts so thought I'd rectify matters with some post-Viognier gibberish.

I've now been established in my Lakeland retreat for some three weeks so, clearly, I am now in a position to deal out wisdom regarding anything I see fit. To whit...

Coniston is a diverting lake and well worth driving around; it has striking hillocks overlooking it but the village is predictably dull - I'm not sure I'd go so far as to advocate walking as it's getting a bit parky around these parts and that's not really my bag. Still, if that's what tickles your boat or, indeed, floats your fancy then I'm sure the environs of Coniston will suffice. Just be sure to dress up warm.

In fairness, I've not had much time to embrace the Lakes as yet. Firstly, upon moving in, Casa Petterson demanded my interior decorating expertise. Things are now settling down and the homestead is replete with inspirational motifs.

However, just as my inner Llewellyn-Bowen was becalmed, then I felt the cold grip upon my shoulder of enforced study. Yes, my PGCE has commenced and, in a word, it's a strain.

Not the workload you understand, but the demanded reflection. I'm expected to look inward and critique appropriately (those of you who are aware of the term "reflective practitioner" can look away and shudder now). A worthy challenge to modify one's behaviour towards constancy when one is drawn towards the extremes of self-loathing and self-love with such frequency. I shall endeavour.

In the realm of music, there has been a bout of fecundity in my listening - current favourites are the CSNY glory of Midlake's "The Trial of Van Occupanther", the arch bleakness of The Editors "An End Has a Start", the acid samba of Os Mutantes' "Os Mutantes", the bitchy easy-listening electronica of The Bird and The Bee's "The Bird and The Bee" and the erudition and energetic instrumentalism of Augie March's "Strange Bird". Get 'em while they're hot - they're lovely.

(put a bit of each of these on the ol' Orb link)

Off to my pillow - drunk, don't you know.