It’s raining. There’s thunder and lightning. This weather usually makes me feel like writing or snuggling up with a book and some tea. I have had my tea. I am doing my writing. But I’m still too sick for intelligent cogitation. I’m going to snuggle down with book 46, Pratchett’s Soul Music, wherein the Discworld discovers “Music with Rocks in.” It stars a guitar player named Imp y Celyn, which translates to Bud of the Holly. Yeah.