Just when I thought the day couldn't get any better: Mrs. Fingers comes back from having her hair newly sandblasted bearing a large contract-shaped envelope postmarked Northern Bavaria. Yup, I'm now officially off to spend my summer with Valkyries, Knights of the Grail and various other colourful characters born of the tip of Richard Wagner's phenomenal quill. It'll be the eighth summer in a row and long may it last; for Wagner lovers, professional or otherwise, life can't pour you many more powerful love potions than a summer in Bayreuth.
It also means I'll be heading over to the Czech Republic again for some cut-price, first-class dental treatment. A series of little push-me-pull-you trains snake through bohemian border country to Karlsbad (Karlovy Vary) where I found someone who'll basically replace my tombstones for a fraction of the cost of having them done anywhere points west of the old Iron Curtain. Another two or three trips and I should be able to advertise toothpaste or run for Prime Minister, seeing as regular gnashers appeared to be Blair's only qualification for the job.