Getting my kicks

Last week we drove to Springfield, the state capital of Illinois. We had no pressing reason to go there but it has plenty to see, including one of the very best Frank Lloyd-Wright houses and Lincoln museums galore. I had thought we would take the train but when Lucy reminded me that we could drive there on Route 66 I was more than eager to hire a car instead.
I’ve had a thing about Route 66 ever since we drove along a stretch of it fifteen years ago. We were driving from the south rim of the Grand Canyon to the Hoover Dam and rather than take the obvious route we took a detour, past faded motels and parched diners.

This is not about a pubic wig

Poor old Saddo Abroad has been neglected while I’ve focussed on writing features for Sinfini that are related specifically to the art of being a singer. And when I say “art” I don’t mean that in an arty way, I mean it in an artful way. Like The Artful Dodger.
Anyway, unfettered by the constraints of writing for other people, I thought it was about time I dusted off my inner Saddo and wrote about things outside the realms of opera and the music business, which is why I started this blog in the first place. Somewhere along the line I got sidetracked and started venting my spleen about some popera singer or other.