David Singleton's Diary

What a difference a month

What a difference a month makes! When I wrote my last diary, summer was in the air, I was still mending potholes in the Road to Red, Robert was a retired live musician, and the third Vicar novel was a figment of Punk's imagination (not that he has much of one).

And here I sit today - with a wet autumn evening out the window, a photo of the first manufactured copy of the fabled box set in my inbox, a seven piece monster of KC filling the column inches (although some of us have sensed which way that wind was blowing for a while) and - heaven be praised - a first draft of the third Vicar novel also in my dropbox . Make that the "final draft" as Punk refuses to do re-writes.

My son Ben, who draws the Graphic Novels, has been waiting so long for Punk to get off his fat behind and give him the plot for the third book, that he has left home and gone to live in London. So I no longer have the pleasure of sharing an office with him everyday (note to fathers: enjoy these moments while you can, You miss them once they pass).

At least my email to Robert when invited to attend his "final concert" in the US several years ago no longer looks so stupid - I wittily, or rashly, replied that I would attend his next final concert.  I think the final concert of King Crimson VIII is a good bet - but then, who knows?

In the meantime - courtesy of Punk Sanderson - what do you do if you want a band with a half decent drummer? Have three of them! (how to piss off three of the nicest people I know all in one go...)