An up and coming singing group has moved in across the street from me. Or maybe a down and going out one. There are young men and young women and at least one guitar and maybe some bongos and they gather every evening to play and they are really quite wonderfully horrible. But they have spirit. There is also a dog and the dog also pitches in when the tones become especially unbearable. They gather on the second floor of the house, which has a lovely balcony, which itself would make a perfect sort of Romeo and Juliet setting if you added a comely young maiden and subtracted the singers and the guitar. And the dog. It’s really potentially quite romantic.
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