A beautiful Baptist song I had never heard, and beautifully performed too

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From today's DAILY MAIL:
It's every 14-year-old's worst nightmare. You get a ticket to the coolest party in town, but then your mother spoils it by tagging along wearing inappropriate clothing and what's worse, exposes her behind to all and sundry.

According to Mail Online spies on the red carpet, that's just what happened when 52-year-old Madonna left daughter Lourdes blushing with embarrassment on the red carpet of the Vanity Fair party last night.

The Material Girl had gone out wearing little more than a black leotard and a few scraps of lace and the mortified teen was heard pleading: 'Mum, do you have to?!’ every time her popstar parent struck a pose and poked out her posterior for the waiting cameras.

In an attempt to shame her mother into being less shameless, Lourdes was also heard to cry: 'But you tell me to behave like a grown-up' everytime her bottom got brandished again...

John Galliano sacked

GOOD
Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. Drunk or not, his remarks were beyond the pale, and if I ever find myself in the same room as him, I'll do my best to rearrange his face.

Georgia, Wales and Europe

This is something that occurred to me a few years ago, when Russia shamefully assaulted Georgia. Georgia is a small, distant country, with its own alphabet and its own church, and a language that nobody else in the world can understand. And yet, from everything I could see of it on the screen, I knew that I felt at home there. And I realized that there are certain things - the villages in green valleys, clustered around their own church with a spire to tower over them - that say "Europe", and that say "home", to me, as much as if they bore the brand. Europe is an enormous thing made of little, stubborn things, small countries and scattered towns and a dense network of villages and churches and town halls and farmhouses; but these things are the same, from Lisbon to the Caucasus and from Malta to Norway. They speak the same language, and welcome a traveller in the same way. I feel that any right-thinking European should love little lands and local loyalties, villages draped across valleys and cities full of churches and steeples, just because they all are, in a fundamental way, his own. And so it is, and may it for ever be, with the green mountains and white chapels of Wales; not just for its own sake, but because it enlarges, ennobles and enriches that whole culture that is our real home on this earth.