― Welcome inside Bleak House, do take an armchair and settle by the fire. To maintain spirits in this Autumn retreat, the staff are... making noises. Luke's guitar is folding back on itself, flickering and flummoxing, Andy's fingers stumble from slumber around the pianoforte, and Robert's hands dance around in their percussive patter. Rest a while. What's that you say? Knocking? Oh no my dear, don't worry about the cellar. There's nothing in the cellar. ∙ The log book tells me the current [...].