Well I said I'd be putting a new post on a week or so after the last one. But time, as any Doctor Who fan will tell you, is a wibbly wobbly, timey-wimey thing. So of course it's nearly two months.

Still, I'm here now. Here's all the things I meant to blog about:

My trip down the Tyne with Val McDermid. South Tyneside and North Tynside libraries wanted to do a joint event but couldn't think of a venue - hence a boat on the Tyne, right in the middle. And what a grand day it was too. I couldn't have wished for better company but I could have wished for a better microphone - the one I had would have made Norman Collier sound good. Still, great fun. And thank you to all those who took the time to come along. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

And while I was there I managed to spend a great afternoon with Ray Banks, who is not only one of the finest crime writers this country has, but also a truly great bloke. I hope we have many more such afternoons. And evenings. And days.

I've also been to Harrogate. This was a little warm up for the Festival in July as I went round lots of libraries in North Yorkshire giving talks and hosting Q & A sessions on Raymond Chandler's The Big Sleep. And my stuff, of course. Again, great fun and I hope I didn't bore Erica, the Festival Maven, too much as we sped round in her Mini, trying to think up awful puns.

I'm now back home and working on my new book. As I always am. But more importantly, I've just been to see one of the best gigs in my life. Neil Young at Hyde Park. Incredible. Like witnessing a huge sonic attack aimed directly at your emotions by Mount Rushmore. Fantastic. I've seen a few good gigs in my time (Flaming Lips, David Byrne, Elvis Costello when he still had the Attractions) but this one may have topped them all. Stunning. I was cheering, laughing, crying . . . and so was everyone around me. Yes, he did guitar solos that ended up as deconstructional avant garde composition and sometimes his songs were so long they crossed several time zones but he also did Cinnamon Girl and Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere and made them sound like they had been written last week and not forty years ago. And a stunning version of Rockin' In The Free World. And Unknown Legend. And Needle And The Damage Done. And loads more . . . And when Paul McCartney came to join him onstage for an encore of Day In The Life . . . well, I've never been a fan of his before and I may not be in the future, but that was something special. Really special.

And Michael Jackson died. Can't say much about that. His music never really meant anything to me. I bought Thriller to see what all the fuss was about and I don't think I even played it all the way through. Boring and soulless. May as well have been listening to Queen or Phil Collins. But people keep telling me he was a genius so I have to believe it. Anyway, as my wife says, you just had to look at him to see he would never make old bones. But I'm sure it won't be long before the Church Of Saint Michael Jackson is founded. People will see him in visions. They'll pray to him for guidance and he'll speak to them personally. And if they're really lucky, he'll interfere with their kids. Actually, let's think about that - asexual deity who suffered for being misunderstood, venerated mother and angry, vengeful father, not to mention child abuse . . . isn't that the Catholic Church?

Oh well, I'm off. I've got a book to write, a dog to walk and lots of Neil Young to listen to. Again.

And just in case you're interested - this week I've been reading House Dick by E Howard Hunt. Another lost gem from the fantastic Hard Case Crime. And listening to Neil Young. Did I mention that?