WhoAm asks whether Flannery O’Connor can be expected soon. Now, I’d thought of saving O’Connor for a while, for obvious (or perhaps not-so-much-so) reasons: the desire to wait until my face gets older and wrinkles become a more permanent part of its own social fabric, or maybe I’ve wanted to save her for the debut of the sequel to Miette’s Bedtime Story Podcast.

A Warning: it’s that time of year where, given the current coordinates of yrs (truly!), you may be exposed to endless nattering about heat exhaust and revelation of podcasts recorded in ice-cubey bathtubs and a relentless boycott of any outergarment. And I hope you will consider this a proper warning because I will, as desperation sets in, become especially doting to those of you in Nordic states, at the poles, or even in climate controlled golf carts (solar-powered of course), I might beg, or quickly become your best friend.

When we compare tonight’s with last year’s Bloomsday podcast, just t’ pose a friendly comparison, we see an almost incredible improvement in sound quality, due either to a highly paid audio engineer or a reluctant purchase of a piece of equipment.

Have waited nearly a year to read Hardy on his birthday, because I strongly suspect that Hardy’s just the sort of guy who should be birthdayishly feted, and in neither in an ironic nor a pointy-paper-hat way. I missed his birthday, as it happens, but not by long… and actually, missing it seems appropriately […]

Yes, I’ve missed you too and thanks for the well wishes, and yes, you’re right: it would have been RAD to podcast from a women’s prison passing the mic around my circle of hardened women criminals and reading while taking turns with the tattoo needle. Maybe next time.