Welcome to sound

Perhaps the sentiments contained in the following pages, are not yet sufficiently fashionable to procure them general favour; a long habit of not thinking a thing wrong gives it a superficial appearance of being right, and raises at first a formidable outcry in defence of custom.

Weeks of planning are coming to fruition. The subwoofer is delivering its massive load. Joe brought round Ferdi and a couple of serious, self-powered speakers. The space has been cleared, decorated and enclosed using Boron's military tarp. A wall of bales limits sound leakage from the rear of the structure. The hut is relatively clean. There is bottled water. The makings of chilli are waiting in the fridge.

Tomorrow evening a mob of local youth will descend. Most will be gone by Saturday lunchtime. In between, I'm sure they'll have a good time. Claire will be safely tucked away at Fyne-Fest, so I'll be riding point - a hopefully uneventful role. There's no sense to fun, common or otherwise, but without it there's no point to anything.