Grant Peterkin is leaving Ignis Asset Management

Just like Jonathan Polin! / He couldn't take it no more, man. 'Oh, the burning love?' I don't know, Voice, but he's going away, that's for sure. A real shame. We'll miss him. 'Where's he going, Mikey?' Abroad. 'Oh Christ! Into exile! A bit like Lord Byron, yeah?' Well, exactly like Lord Byron. 'Greece? Will he be fighting the Germans?' No. All I can tell you is that Grant is tired of messing around with the Ignis Absolute Return Government Bond fund. 'Well, er ... Byron, er ... is he going a-roving, then?' I don't know, man. How should I know? He's probably tired of that too. 'Byron wasn't a fund manager, you know.' I know he wasn't! Listen, forget it, Voice. / See if you can dig this. By the light of the moon last night I re-recorded Gilly Marie for the fiftieth time - or something like that. (I've recorded it a lot.) I thought the song was no good, but my guitar playing has improved. 'Great!' And my singing has improved. 'Wonderful!' And now the song sounds cool. So I have two complete songs, plus two songs nearly finished. 'Yippee!' I'll definitely be ready after Christmas. 'Brilliant! What about Mr Peterkin?' He can join my band. Drummer, maybe. Or bassist. I'll have to speak to him about it. 'But he's going abroad, Mikey!' No, no, no. I'll talk him out of it. 'Good. Let's keep him in the country.' Yes, where we know what he's getting up to.

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I've got a nice egg sandwich for lunch. / After lunch I'll be on the guitar. I want to get things finished. Just one of those two songs will be enough. I know which one. I need eighteen lines of lyric for it.

I'm listening to Rumours by Fleetwood Mac. Forty million copies sold! You can't argue with that. 'Players only love you when they're playing, Mikey.' You're not wrong, Voice.