In light of the previous post's comment, I shy away from mentioning the folk in this blog, for fear of rousing the anger of that notorious Chicago hitman, the "Filleter"; the nexus of fiddles and offal being his niche.
However, today's events must not pass without comment. I promise not to mention graphic novels or the pope.
My evening's amusements (I downloaded the demo of Half-life 2, which is frankly scary in both technical aspects and atmosphere) were interrupted by a red haired lass whose aquaintance I had never made. She introduced herself as the manager of Bellowhead, and announced that since she only lived at No. 1 on my street, she thought she'd pop the Bellowhead E.P. I'd ordered around herself and refund me the £1.50 postage I'd paid.
Now *that's* customer service.
1 comment:
That's amazing. If you run into her again, tell her I tried to book her band for the University of Chicago folk festival, but was told in no uncertain terms that they were "totally inappropriate" and "sounded like rock music". I may leave the folk society in protest.
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