I'm still alive but it hardly feels like it - submerged in proof-correcting and nothing but: days, evenings, weekends; nothing else happens. Maybe those who write blogs are under some obligation to lead interesting lives, or at least to read books, listen to records, go to gigs and see films. But I'm marooned in the end zone, reading through 800,000 words hunting for misplaced apostrophes. Hard to cope with the dizzy glamour of it all...