Of visas and smoky vocals

The Home Office, it appears, does a few things apart from eating my money and getting blackmailed by the News of the World. Like giving me a nice, new, safe and flexible visa, which they did today. Needed 65 points, made sure we had bloody 100 (nice round appealing figure). Still, opened the rather intimidating looking package with some trepidation. After we'd dusted off the suspicious looking white powder that issued forth, there was this bland letter telling us.... since you've got more than 65blahblahblah......yipppeeee!


P.S. Ronnie Scott's reopens it's doors today after refurbishment. 47 years of hair-raisingly good jazz, 41 of them on Frith Street. The new menu is described as posh English nosh, not exactly a proposition that gets the tastebuds tingling. Something about gorgeous mash (what's that? sounds like this Zulu chap I know) and crab risotto (that sounds better).

Maybe I'll spring a surprise on the Lady and take her there. But we need to get tested for anthrax before that.