Listening to: Prince - Electric Chair

What up homies?
As I type, sheets of rain driven by howling Castle Dracula-style winds bear down upon the roof of Chéz Sonique in a most unforgiving fashion.
The wind is speaking, nay, mocking me my virtual friends. It says quite clearly: 'Put away those shorts and urban-sandals loser, this is it now for the next 6 months'. Then there's a kind of maniacal crazy-person type laugh. It's so loud I can barely hear myself moan about the weather.

In truth, the Summer of Sonic never really got going did it? Tell you what though, I'm pretty sure that we're in for a proper Sonic Winter. Never any problems with that one in Cruel Britannia. You want drizzle and darkness for months on end, you'll sure as heckfire get it.
Anyhoo, this matters less than usual at the moment, because tomorrow morning, Yours Truly puts his undies and a toothbrush in a kit-bag and takes the high road to our nation's Capital, Dick Whittington style.
Yessir, I'm off to see Prince's penultimate show at the O2 Arena in glorious Greenwich.
Have to say, I'm not in possession of the greatest seat in the house, but nothing a top-of-the-range infra-red telescope won't fix. Still, it's the taking part that matters, right?
Will report back at the weekend.