I was just thinking in respect to my rather clumsy maritime metaphor above there that I'm more than happy to poke around the rock-pools, seeing what the tide has brought in, but each time afresh with respect to the experience, but never losing sight of the ocean beyond. Singarounds as rock pools? Or else just kicking along the shore at low tide raking through the flotsam and jetsam, seeing what's what and pondering the possible source thereof, much the less the journey it's had in getting there - or yet the journey I've had myself in getting there, or by what process I might find something appealing, or moving, however so removed from its original context, like this piece of funereal flotsam we found at Knott End on Sunday.

As for WAV, I think he's got to realise his life's work is only just beginning; that one can only think of oneself as being a traddy when one has forgotten more songs than one knows, and if one is still singing the same songs as one was a year ago, then maybe it's time one learnt some new ones.