Hey gang
Seems like ages since the rawk’n’roll leviathan that is Angel Up Front surfaced from the murky depths of the abyss, but we’re just about to emerge blinking into the unfamiliar sunlight, dripping salty fluids and, quite possibly, encrusted with barnacles.
In the meantime, I for one have had a manically non-rawk’n’roll weekend, involving much rebuilding of gardens and shouting at children – sometimes my own – and, all in all, I really can’t remember what all the fuss was about at work last week. I’m pretty sure I was very worried at the amount of jolly important and desperately urgent things I hadn’t managed to get finished by the end of last Friday; but I’m damned if I can remember what they were. Possibly the answer lies inside the bottle of Jack Daniels that lurks in the kitchen cupboard. I shall have to investigate that possibility; rather thoroughly, I feel…