Not here but there

Dagnabbit. It is a matter of the most blitherous malconsequence that I haven't linked from here to the Hey Mathew blog. Early on it was because I was feeling coy about the whole palaver. Since then it's just incompetence and forgetfulness. Now, I want everyone there, hanging out, toasting marshmallows, enacting obscure Viking rituals. (The reference is to the swarthy chaps with the horny helmets, and vice versa; not to the corporate stationers, whose only ritual appears to be to send me three catalogues a week promoting cheap toner cartridges for printer models I do not own and never have or shall, attempting curiously to entice me into making entirely redundant bulk purchases thereof by offering me a free tin of biscuits: a strategy which I cannot deny has given me pause more than once.)

Please feel at any rate very warmly welcome to come down on that fold: ladeez'n'gennelmun: the Hey Mathew blog. (Not the most surprising web address, no.)

O since you ask so nicely. The Klinker reading was a blast. Lovely to see those who were there. (How is it possible that Malcolm Phillips just gets more and more beautiful? To whom should I complain? -- Which reminds me of a lovely story in today's Popbitch mailout: AQA, one of those text-your-question services, apparently recently received the enquiry: "Why does ur nan have intercourse with penguins?") And I came perilously close to being picked up by an inebriated 40-year-old woman, who formed an inexplicable attachment to me and was, somewhere behind the fumes, rather sweet. And I liked the band Team B very much, once they hit their stride: some great No New York riffery and cheap harmonizer thrills.

And a round huzzah for the appointment of Sean Holmes as the new artistic director of the Lyric Hammersmith. A good choice, I reckon, and evidently a popular one.

That's all I'm saying. There are a hundred and nine things that need doing. A hundred and ten if you count actually doing any of them.