Apologies; temporarily laid low again after trip to Glyndebourne for Mozart's 'Dodgy Gardener'—who actually looked as though she'd never been near so much as a daisy—which proved something of a strain on the wrecked Prommer spine.

Great fun, btw, and some beautiful singing, for all several reviews were decidedly grudging. And although the story is pretty silly, if you like Handel operas (or if you've ever read Richardson's Pamela) it wasn't that incomprehensibly ridiculous. . .

(Was complimented on the way my 'biker gloves' went with my evening dress. Not intended as a a fashion statement: they're the fingerless black leather gloves I wear to protect my hands pushing my wheelchair about. I just forgot to take them off when I got to my seat. Thinking now though  of starting a Hell's Wheelchair Opera Chapter. Will see if the local tattoo parlour will do me a tattoo of Danielle de Niese.)