Comfort zone

This is a counting-of-blessings post. On D-Day I tend to think of my mother's endlessly jovial cousin, who had been a fitter with a Typhoon squadron and one of the first in to some of the concentration camps. And here's my very good friend Andy Williamson, mellow as a 'cello, raising money for kidney research by doing one of the very many surprising things he does surprisingly well: Though, I should mention, he's perhaps not so good on the other end of the rope. Last time I was being hauled upwards off me drums on a rope by certain horn players, somebody let go in order to play his solo. It's one way of being dropped by a band. Have a look at the page where you give the money to find out more. All being well, the World Naked Bike Ride will be Andy's next gig. Moving queasily on, another extremely good friend, Peter Woodcraft, is keeping his yellow shirt on to cycle from London to Paris to raise money for Asthma UK. You can read the details here. No mean feat. My latest contribution to selflessness was trying, successfully, not to grumble too much about spending my Bank Holiday weekend painting the kitchen. Time I got off my complacent tuchus and did something to balance the pure, pure gravy of living the ol' safe European life.

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