I guess some form of accounting is in order. A dog can't just fall off the face of the planet for 6 months and expect the search party to be still out there looking for his remains. You may be wondering what fate has befallen your bonged-out beagle buddy. Does he lie dead in a ditch, the victim of a heinous canine crime....whacked by some Dog Boss for spilling his guts to Animal Control? Or has he blown himself apart in some Puppy Mill jihad and now enjoying the pleasures afforded by 72 virgin bitches? His eternal reward.

The Truth, I fear, is far less fantastic.

"The Break" got off to a flying start with the completion of McCann's "Bloodshot Lullabies". Hopes ran high until the powers that be all politely passed. Can't blame them really. I mean what 42 year old folker would be foolish enough to make a record in this day and age. He'd have more luck trying to grow a set of tits. Never one to admit defeat though, McCann has taken to wearing a training bra and is more determined than ever to let the soundtrack of his dark heart  be heard. So please stay tuned.....

Though disappointing, this temporary setback pales in comparison to the 

disasterous dichotomy we like to call a "family vacation". As if living with children weren't punishment enough, dragging them all over the continent under the guise of relaxation is pure masochism. I would rather feel the bite of the Flagellants whip than sit through another tearsoaked takeoff. It's enough to make the sacrifice of the Castrati seem like a mere inconvenience. Christ himself chose the cross over an RV outing with Magdalene and his holy brats. The distance between bonding and bondage is one errant sperm.

Occasionally there was a flash of light in the oily blackness. A match struck in hope......of fire. Many new songs were completed (art thrives in adversity). The session with Paul Lamb in late june was particularly fruitfull and genuine fun. A new partnership with brother Kevin was forged and shows much promise. I drank from Lord Stanley's mug (some clear yellow liquid i hope was beer). I found a new friend (cheers Mike) and Finnegan learned to walk. 

Not all bad I spose.

And now? What indignities and uncertainties might have befallen my former co-conspirators?  Where will we all find ourselves come next weekend? Together again?

I hope so.

Tosh