David Kidney here. Last weekend, I was pretty much out of touch. The weather was beautiful, autumn fresh, sunshiney, with that crisp cool air that makes for perfect football playing weather. The local University team was in a playoff game at the Stadium. You could hear the cheering as they defeated their long-time rivals from further on down the road. The neighbourhood church was celebrating the arts, with a gallery of contributions that I co-curated. It was lovely, paintings and carvings, poetry, hand-crafts from members of the fellowship of all ages. And the quality, of an unbelievably high level. Who knew there was such talent in the pews?

During the day they provided music in the main sanctuary. Sing what you like, people were told, and the folksinger sang 'Pancho & Lefty' and 'FDR in Trinidad,' while the ex-missionary played choruses on the keyboard while and daughter sang, and the songleader joined his daughter in a trio of violin duets... Pachelbel, I think, was one. Visitors wandered in and out, it was a perfect day. Then the sun dropped down beyond the horizon, and the evening concert began. The Toronto Mass Choir. Thirty-five voices united as one. They rocked the chapel. They soared. They invited the audience to participate. I sang with them. One song. We learned the choreography, and the vocal parts, and then we lifted our voices together. After five minutes I was exhausted...and the choir had been singing for ninety! Whew! Sunday night was a band concert.

Anyway, they were looking for me here at the Green Man offices. SPike had been involved in some misadventure at the skating pond. Not sure that it wasn't deserved; but you know he is not much of a swimmer after the van accident in which he lost his brother Fred... but the musos all ended up drinking together so it must have been all in good fun. SPike is nursing himself back to health with large helpings of Paddy 'n' Red...not sure he wants to get well.

We have a bumper crop of things to review this week. From the sublime to the...well...to the other sublime. Nothing that comes in is quite as ridiculous as daily life in the Green Man Building. Ask anyone. Ask SPike!