Quite a roller-coaster of a weekend. I saw the very excellent My Fair Lady at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane (I only mention the theatre by its full name because it is as famous as the show).

Enjoyed a fun party on Saturday night and even managed to clear away the hangover on Sunday morning, with the aid of well-prepared nutrition. After a bit of yakking, it was time to return to the North East and I'd just like to say I'm happy to be here.

Sadly this weekend also saw the demise of one third of one of our best song-writing trios. It is indeed a tragedy that we lost Maurice Gibb yesterday. He had been admitted to the hospital, perhaps with a night fever, but soon they realised it was a problem with his stomach. They operated, but this caused a chain reaction, exacerbating his heart condition. I know it's only words, but I think our ordinary lives were touched by this incredible man. To love somebody just because of their music is a bit much; if you're really feeling that way, you should question how deep is your love. I would say that we should be glad of his music and put his death into perspective. For instance, the New York Mining Disaster 1941 was a much greater tragedy. It would more more fitting to celebrate Mr Gibb's life. You should be dancing to remember his rhythms, perhaps have a few good nights on broadway in his memory - if you live in New York, that is, and are not too upset still by that mining disaster. And so, I've gotta get a message to you and it's this: Mr Gibb did not survive until the first of may this year, but while he was stayin' alive he brought us more than a man, more than a woman might normally have given us. So, don't forget to remember him.