How anyone can look forward to spending hours wandering around (hanging out I believe the young call it) down town Buxton on a cold January Friday evening beats me. Which is why Mrs BW and I suspect that the Weasel (16 and “OMG you’re so lucky to have me I don’t do nuffink wrong”)probably doesn’t. She has the remarkable knack of breezing in at 11.02 pm (always just a little late, “but I had to wait so that I could walk back with Kate and you wouldn’t want me to walk back alone would you?”) And even when the Atlantic has done its worst and it has been hosing it down all evening, in she will come, dry, but adamant that she has walked back in the rain. We don’t know where she goes and of course its better not to know, so we don’t ask. Anyway here I am on a Friday evening, with the Munch watching some violence on the tele, Mrs BW out and about in Glossop,enjoying herself, while I wait for the Weasel. Its just me and Moonshine (the hamster) and the wireless. Thank God for Radio 7, as I believe we must now call it. High Table Lower Orders since you asked.