I’m struggling with my teeth, apparently, and I can’t say Hari Mata Hari. Henceforth, thus, he will be known as Hattie Mattie Hattie. I think it’s looking nice, the steps are barely distinguishable in a starscape of many points of light, it looks nice and it sounds nice and Phil doesn’t get it at all. We’ve been here before. Hence, we’re off to the press cafe so I can explain it to him over a bag of oregano-flavoured potato crisps and a tub of Caprice.
