I Hate John Philip Sousa

The phone rang at 2.30 in the morning.  I tumbled out of bed, thinking, "so who's died this time?", ran the length of  the  splintery landing in my bare naked feet and got a pre-recorded salesman, voice like autumn sunshine, saying, "this call will cost you nothing..."

I should freaking well hope not!

After that we couldn't sleep. So we went downstairs, made a hot drink and watched an Open University programme about John Philip Sousa.

Da Da diddly-dee dee dee dee pom pom pom...