you may have thought that I have abandoned you, even forgotten you. You have probably calculated the probability that I have run aground on a reef of wordlessness or gone AWOL in a creative desert. Bets have likely been placed as to whether I would ever post again.
Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. I seem to have struggled to pull together time and space (for a brief history, see Steven Hawking) enough to string together sensible sentences outside the classroom, and indeed sometimes within it.
I must confess that I’ve been reading in the sunshine instead of clattering on the laptop in the gloom, or been dodging raindrops instead of courting inspiration.
But, as Elvis says, you are always on my mind, so that little nuggets of purest green are stored away to tell you at the appropriate hour and love bombs are ready to be dropped.
But forsooth, the hour is not yet upon us. Tis nearly eleven of the clock and I must to bed, for I shall hie me to the bank betimes on the morrow. And yet, and yet, I have stories to tell of la fete de la musique, the longest night in Berlin. Stories of punk and pastiche, techno and tanze. I have photos of Ireland to show you and sundry others too. So I’ll be back folks, yes, I’ll be back.