Tonight's rehearsal for Connect at Holy Trinity Clapham Common this Sunday is located about 400 yards from the front door of the St Anthony's Harpertage, although it will mean returning Sarf from Newton's Nest and 'over the Battersea to home.' Doubtless it will be a world away from both, despite geographical proximity...
Joel and I are holed up on the fourth floor of our Belgravia Office suite. The screens of trading figures are flickering in the half light as I type my blog and he is busy slaying Russians - I lie! Master of the Universe Andreth McNewton has temporarily finished his deals for the day and is probably down at the pub sinking a Magnum of Krystal Kola (no ice please; mate, I said NO ICE PLEASE!) The tunes are pumping here while the landlord's out swapping short selling tips with the barmaid of the Duke of Wellington. I suppose he might be on the phone to his tailor or turning keys in church locks at St Michael's Chester Square.
Time for the 2nd of my 4 bridge crossings of the day - deo volunte, as it says we should qualify even our 21st certainties in the book of James the knobbly kneed. (Through prayer apparently - Camel Knees was his kneekname.) I'm sure Andreth McNewton would agree in theory, as would every honest fund master and Universe Manager.
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