A year of the Blog

That's it, we've come round, Newyorkism has turned one. I'm pleased. It seemed so new very recently and I know things have fallen off, (busyness getting in the way), but it now seems all settled. To mark the birthday-blog, I have meddled into the backrooms of Blogger and managed to add comments to the site, so you, rarely reading this, can try it out, leave words here. But better, better than that, is Daife Labi, who is treading gingerly, well not that gingerly, on to the www as well. Here is his come-uppance. And I've popped him in the links over there.

Over here, the course is finished. All but. Graduate next week in a frenzy of well wishes and goodbyes. Nearly all of them, I fear, will be total and forever. I'll keep hold of the best ones, the Chens, and things, but you can feel that the boil has gone. I start in a couple of weeks with the Times out here, chasing around and doing what I can and I'm looking forward to it a lot. I never found Masciandaro, so I wrote about Billy Stormont, another elevator bete-black.

There'll be more soon. Give me a moment to recover. Thanks for reading.