As an ostensibly superfluous governmental consultant adviser on tautological pleonasm only recently made redundant, in addition to being presented at the farewell leave-taking party with a rather nice repeater clock I was gifted as an added bonus (free, gratis and for nothing) a morsel of audio ear candy, a sugared sweetener in the form of Steve Reich's pluvial 'It's Gonna Rain'; and perhaps because I was tearful and in maudlin mood, feeling mawkishly sentimental, I charitably mailed it on to my friend Bert, aware of his insatiable pleonexia for ever more phased minimalism, isolated as he is deep within some mountain valley of the western United States, his only neighbour a native indiginous American whom he occasionally glimpses through the freezing, swirling miasma of the chill, nebulous, decidedly nippy, pogonip.