So… the folks I’m going to see in Aspen have just come down with a particularly whacky and exciting form of pneumonia. Not actually threatening, just enough to (a.) make them feel really bloody awful, and (b.) render them horribly infectious, for about a fortnight. Plan A sees me arriving in… about a fortnight.
Ah.
Plan B… hasn’t had chance to form, as yet. But hey, I’m sure we’ll think of something. Maybe we’ll meet up in a bar, where we’ll sit at opposite ends with a tin-can telephone, bellowing a decade’s-worth of catching up to each other. D’you think that’d work?