Hymn tunes are the nearest we've got to English folk music.
Oh Wasn't it naughty of Smudges? Oh, Mummy, I'm sick with disgust. She threww me in front of the judges, And my silly old collar-bone's bust.
Imprisoned in a cage of sound, even the trivial seems profound
On out deathbeds we're not going to regret all the work we didn't do. We're going to regret all the sex we didn't have!
I am still reeling with delight at the soaring majesty of Norfolk.
Lovers of Norfolk churches can never agree which is the best and I think one is either a Salle or a Cawston man.