Reformation (sort of. Maybe)

 

I am sitting here surrounded by huge tottering piles of old newspapers and magazines.  And it's all Fiona's fault.  This catalyst thing can go too far.

            Those of you with disgracefully tenacious memories* may remember that I went to the Steeleye Span concert** back in November with a friend named Fiona.  Fiona runs a folk-music club*** and sings for a little local band who might well be wealthy and famous if they weren't all cripplingly shy and polite.†  Which is to say that Fiona ...