We are back. It is now 7.45 p.m. The trip back to the Great White North was mostly uneventful, powered by diesel and happy memories of two extraordinary gatherings at The China Sea Marine Trading Company in Portland and chez Bat Goddess and Curmudgeon.

The "mostly" refers to the rapid deterioration of the muffler on our VW Golf. It started getting loud somewhere in Maine. By the time we left Linn and Tom's place it was sounding like a Hercules transport plane. After disturbing the citizens of New Hampshire and Vermont on their Memorial Day Holiday the damned thing finally fell off on the bridge over Lake Champlain. We had visions of a State Trooper pulling us over and ordering us to "step out of the car, please". Luckily, we made Cornwall, Ontario before 5 p.m. and Speedy Muffler effected a muffler transplant for us.

What a joy this was. I'm still buzzing and am looking forward to my next music fix. I have never seen such a combination of friendship and musical skill. I hope to see as many as possible of you at the Old Songs Festival. Alas, it's too laste for Mystic this year, but God willing ...

Edmund