So the evil, heartless, cyclist-hating bastards that call themselves 'insurers' refused to pay out for my poor, stolen bicycle. I spent Friday in a fuming knot of intense rage, until my mother kindly stepped in to help me out so that I wouldn't have a heart attack or a stroke or forfeit next month's rent in favour of a metal frame and a couple of wheels. So now I'm back on the roads and somewhat less angry (just my usual level of ordinary arsiness remains).
Anyway, I forgot to link to my last Manchester Literature Festival blog post, so here it is - a write-up of John Siddique's poetry reading in the Manchester Art Gallery. And, right, here's a great article by Anne Enright on Irish short story writers. Finally, week one of NaNoWriMo is almost done, and so far I'm on target - of course, I was on target at this point last year too, so that's no guarantee of success. Never mind - one day at a time.