It's a sunny, bright but cold day at the farmette. Minus three degrees this morning, and a hard, hard frost coating everything.
We've been busy filling up our new room on the second floor. We hoiked all of the vinyl albums back upstairs and filed them neatly under our new, 50-inch television.
As you can see, a certain feline who will not be named (Calvin) has made himself quite at home already.
We actually had a lot of fun looking through all the old covers. The one above is ancient - almost as old as me, since it was published in 1964 - from Rob's collection, of course. The Rolling Stones were England's newest hit makers at the time and they're now all in their eighties, or gone on to that big rock band in the sky. Still touring, though. Amazing.
Rob has all the Beatles albums, too. He was a huge fan of Jethro Tull - so all of those are part of the collection, including the iconic Thick as a Brick.
My musical favourites were a bit, ahem, later. But Rob had the records that I loved. I swear it was one of the main reasons I fell for the guy. It was the eighties, and he, like me, listened to CFNY in Toronto. Great, great radio and fantastic music in those days.
One of my favourites - and still is -was Steve Winwood. Higher Love and Back in the High Life just lift me up every time I hear them.
On the more eclectic side, I always loved to listen to the Talking Heads. David Byrne was so quirky, and the songs were unlike anything I'd heard up until then. Road to Nowhere is a classic that really resonates these days.
This is the back side of an album from the mid-eighties.
Rob has an extensive collection of classical music - his own, and his father's who loved listening to Mozart and Beethoven - sometimes on 78s. We also ran across a really odd one. Rob thinks it must have been his sister Anne's. The cover is self-explanatory.
While we don't yet have the turntable fixed up for actual listening, we're going to get there soon, and I can hardly wait to spin the vinyl on music nights.
Until next week. Gratuitous cat photo courtesy of Hobbes, who has decided that draping himself on my head during after-lunch naps is a terrific idea.