It’s always good to break a hiatus with a touch of neuroses. I wonder if it happens to other people – the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach when you look at yourself but don’t recognise who you see. A part of you revels in this new facet, unmindful of the havoc its wreaking on the others, luxuriating in the sensations in brings like a muddy pig in the rains squealing as it spies the trough. It’s a bit creepy when you indulge in an out of body observation of your antics, subduing the urge to snigger at your deeply affronted normal self. What’s odd, is that while I can see it quite clearly, and on occasion even articulate it most succinctly, it’s control completely eludes me. A touch like dealing with Egypt Air I must admit. Which reminds me… to get on with my story of love’s labour lost…