That Osmonds live review in full.

Well, I say “in full”; this is actually the sub-edited version, which slices off the last couple of sentences.

I only wish that I could link to the following Friday’s letters page, in which a couple of outraged Osmonds fans gave me a right old mauling. (That’s one street in Hucknall which I’ll never be able to walk down again.) K says that the experience has “blooded” me as a journalist.

Yes, I know I’ve been quiet. I’d have caught up at the weekends, but the recurring Man Flu keeps rendering me incapable. Every Saturday morning, I just seem to… collapse. Funny how I’m always better by Monday morning.

Four more days left in London, and then normal life resumes. It’s been fun – hugely so – but after six solid weeks of socialising, I must confess to feeling somewhat conversationally burnt out.

Or maybe I’ve just grown tired of myself as a subject. Which would also partially explain the blog-silence. Hmm. Well, fear not; normal levels of self-obsession are sure to return before too long. It’s the way I’m made.

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