Back! – BACK! – from a delicious half-term holiday week. I have a massive pile of work (work as in that thing I get paid for doing) to do, and a scant five-and-a-half-weeks of term left to do it all in.

Yet what’s actually pre-occupying me is that I haven’t posted anything here for more than seven days. Let the calamitous end of the galaxy commence!

That might well suffice as a snapshot of my current state of mind, waving off the Man with one hand while tapping out some keyboard Morse for my sanity with t’other.

I should add: while distracto-riffing off my Smash Hits allusion in the first paragraph, I discovered to my genuine surprise that one of my heroes, Tom Hibbert, had died in miserable circumstances, unable to work for the last 14 years of his life. Shit. Quite threw my mind-chuntering about there not being enough hours in the day into sharp relief.

Ah, writing, that good-for-the-soul ratatat, the chuntering mind lines thrown overboard… (“He strode off and along the pier reciting from his notebook, then stood declaiming to no one, backlit by the setting sun over the water. Back at the table, the rest of the party shrugged and looked at each other over the plates as conversation slowly resumed. Beth mouthed ‘Awks…’ at Sally, turning her attention to a fresh drink with gratitude.”)

So yes.

Coming up…/Half-finished in the drafts folder:

5×5 (“25 albums that changed my life”). Paul Simon – Graceland
25th anniversary special edition!

Live and Let Die. The 10mh/Mortal Bath Bond marathon just keeps on coming, with post-war military-industrial complex bureaucracy, gold coins, voodoo, chicken sandwiches and smart-casual racism.

Bip-bip-bip! Teletext, Ceefax and when the technologies of yesterday’s tomorrows were today… er…

My time among the Tree Folk Patrick Leigh Fermor meets the Pixies.

Crop Rotation in the 14th Century

Right, these Year 9 assessments won’t mark themselves.

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