Okay, okay so if anyone actually reads this stuff then I can only apologise for being extremely tardy and not writing anything. For a whole month. Soon after I agreed with myself to start this thing I then went and got all busy and spent a lot of time in London actually seeing stuff and reading a lot of plays and then not following up the usual act of writing about them.

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Wednesday saw me waiting for an age for a correct tube that wasnÕt on the District Line and saw me heave myself into a seat on the second row of the Barbican with one minute to spare. Bloody tubes, I feel like a proper Londoner know IÕve felt the wrath of public transport and vocalised it. Loudly.

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Yes, the day it snowed I went a spied on an estranged husband and wife, literally peering in over their dado rail. IÕm of course jabbering about Leo ButlerÕs ÒFaces In The CrowdÓ. The set up of the stage in the Jerwood Space Upstairs is fantastic. We, the audience hover over the ceiling and peer into DaveÕs plush looking flat complete with working plasma TV and food to create recipes that the Guardian have spouted. The brilliance about the set is everyone is watching what could happen next.

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Friday saw me mustering all the energy I could gather in my bones and spend the night being fuelled by epic guitar soundscapes and harsh electronica. Just the way I like it.

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I first saw ÒLilly Through The DarkÓ up in Edinburgh the August gone and it truly astounded me. Being an emotionally retarded person (if I do cry or feel this thing they call love, itÕs normally brought on by incredible wonderment and not another person) River People Theatre CompanyÕs production made me cry in Bedlam Theatre in August this year. The auditorium was packed and collectively we all left sniffling and had the great excuse of the rain covering for our tears as we ventured back out. I had been so moved that I wished I had dragged someone along to see it with me rather than smiling fondly in the rain after.

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So today found me waking up late because IÕm suffering from a virus which has made the right hand side of my body go weakÉ which ultimately means that when I wake up in the morning knowing that IÕve already told my job that IÕm not going in: my body goes into complete shutdown. This resulted in wildly over-sleeping and being coaxed out of bed by a cup of tea which for once would not be made by my own hands.

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So hallo, this is my first ever blog. IÕm not really sure what itÕs for but I know that at some point IÕll write on/it it. So I guess thatÕs a good thing as IÕm supposed to be a writer and the first thing I canÕt do is make myself write when I need to be.

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Twenty copies of Kill-Grief arrived today, after a somewhat nail-biting few weeks involving a printer going into administration and a lot of heroism on the part of Picnic Publishing and their freelance designer, John Schwartz, who went way beyond the call of duty in sorting everything out.

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It was hot. So hot that for a few feet the air above the concrete promenade rippled and shimmied, causing the bare legs of slowly strolling flip-flop clad day trippers to look as if they were refracted through a fun fair mirror. I sat in the shade on the steps of the lifeguard hut eating a hamburger and wearing a knock-off Frankie Says… tee shirt that I’d bought for a pound in the market. A piece of fried onion escaped from the clammy stale bun and landed in a greasy coil on the turquoise capital F to the right of my chest. I picked it off between my fingers and flicked it onto the ground.


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Yes, me!

I went to see a choral/orchestral performance (sorry - don't know the proper term) last night of Mozart's Requiem (this kind of thing). And it was brilliant, which, to be honest was a surprise and a relief. I've never been too fussed about Mozart's stuff before, but that I loved - and I loved that it was live. Definitely something I'd do again, despite looking considerably out of place (I should be used to that really). Really glad I made the effort - not least because I got to go for drinks with some of the choir afterwards whose company was a fine thing.

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