It’s been a year of two halves, metaphorically speaking, and Dan Mangan has had my ear for most of the second half. So there we were, Movie Mate and I, in Kings Cross on a Tuesday night, feeling like we’d slipped into some sort of Canadian enclave. Dan Mangan has the most remarkable baritone voice that cuts through to the rather bruised bit below my left ventricle like a knife through butter. He played every single song of his that I absolutely love, in a spectacularly long but brilliant set: from Oh Fortune to Robots, to Basket and About As Helpful As You Can Be Without Being Any Help at All, and much, much glorious more. Another very late but memorable night of music: happy birthday, Movie Mate.

It’s amazing what sets you off. Late last Saturday MM tells me that there’s an Internet rumour that MON is about to resign. Cue inconsolable sobbing from me at fairly unprecedented levels. Further cue MM desperately back-tracking and attempting to disparage rumours. What can it all mean? Perhaps a small miracle tomorrow? Maybe not.

There was much sadness this week and some well-needed restoration on Thursday from Bingley D. Oh she knows me so well. Still, a search party has left searching for my sense of humour. They may be some time. On a slightly lighter note, the cat now resembles a furry space hopper and has twice tried to attack my empty hand, mistaking it for food. I may end up like Beryl Reid, being eaten alive by my pet cat(s) in a low budget horror production.

Whatever.

Mrs Mackerel x

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