Leven, on a jet plane

Ah yes, you could see that one coming from miles off, couldn’t you? I’ve been getting ready for my trip to darkest Fife tomorrow by finishing off the page proof edit for Dying Light. Now all I have to do is type up my notes and weegle them into Sarah’s brain while she’s not looking. Bwahaha... and associated socks.

In honour of my Leven gig I’ve also developed a massive crick in the neck – you know, the kind where if you look left, like this, it.... aaaaa! Ouch! Eeeek... OK, you just don’t look left. Which is a shame because a lot of cool things happen in that direction, and turning round so it’s on the right is just wrong.

I have also been nurturing a sooster of a plook. It’s been years since I had a spot, but this one sits upon my forehead like Mount Doom*. Any minute now I expect to see Frodo and Sam scurrying across it on their way to chuck in a ring, three black bin-bags of rubbish and an old mattress (well, it seems a shame to waste the trip). If there are any problems with the electric tomorrow night, we’ll all be able to see by the glowing of my bright red pimple.

Am I Mr Showbiz, or what?

* I could have been tasteless and called it Mount Vesuvi-pus, but I’m way too classy for that.