A review of mine in today's Guardian about two excellent novellas/short novels/whatever, though in the editing process, there's a stylistic mistake that doesn't belong to me:  In successive sentences are the phrases "life itself" and "light itself".  Not what I wrote (I wouldn't dream of the duplication), but that sometimes happens so I can live with it.  The books are good, though, seek them out.

Saw a Scottsh Gaelic band last night at the invitation of a friend.  Capercaillie, who it seems are hugely popular, so the shame is on me for not having heard of them.  One of their opening acts was Lau, who I must say were absolutely sensational.  All good stuff, even the lone dancing man in the front row.  In Cadogan Hall, that sort of thing stands out.

For those interested in my reading, I've just finished Hari Kunzru's Transmission and am starting on a proof of the new Peter Carey, His Illegal Self, which I've been saving up.

Tomorrow up at the crack of dawn to run a leg in the Luton Marathon relay.  Weather forecast is pouring rain and strong gusts of wind.  Think of me as you drink your horlicks.