Swallowed

It is unprecedented for me to go two days without writing but I have been swallowed whole by the Wymondham Words Festival, for which I feel a deep and constant responsibility, and which has gone extraordinarily well so far, but has meant being at work from 8am to about midnight, as witness tonight. I'll write it up with thoughts in due course over the next few days.

Tomorrow noon is my own high noon - an hour or so of entertainment on the subject of autumn, with guitar by Andy Kirkham. I've not done one of these before so God help me and all who sail in me, that is to say people like Rainer Maria Rilke and Boris Pasternak and John Donne and Emily Dickinson plus two people called Shelley and Keats as well as...