In the park

Phoebe is not in much of a mood for running around and playing today, so we find a bench and sit together swaying gently along to Bob Dylan's Modern Times (sharing the i-pod with one ear bud each), while we watch Emily playing football. It is an idyllic moment of almost perfect happiness, spoiled only by my realisation that impressive though Mr Zimmerman's latest album undoubtedly is, his voice is at times indistinguishable from that of Grampa Simpson.