I was at the printer's first thing this morning to collect a box of The Perfect Book.
One makes oneself a hostage to fortune giving a book a title like that and I think The Singing Typewriter on page 5 is in a smaller font than the rest of the book. Other errata appear to be entirely stylistic and will have to be explained away.
The late edit of The Flawed Book, putting in 'dreadful' for 'lousy' omitted to notice that 'dreaded' occurs in the first stanza. Okay.
'Fatal' occurs in two poems, which only enhances any morbid overall theme the book might have but if a major theme is cliché then if cliché is dead language then perhaps it all ties in with notions of being trapped, whether by language or by life. It's not for me to say. I never said it would be a perfect book, I only called it The Perfect Book. Perhaps the next one, or the Collected, will just be called Book.
So those expecting to receive a copy in the post can expect it early next week. If anybody else wants one, by all means e-mail. I might be grateful of a fiver to cover production costs, p&p, especially since Supasundae let me down at Aintree today.
The Professor and I both like Seeyouatmidnight in the Grand National. His other choice is The Last Samurai whereas I go for a hopeful punt on 50/1 shot, Carlingford Lough, thinking that something like his old form would make him a good thing.
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Meanwhile stay tuned for news of the next release, First Three Tales by The Jess Davies Band, due on May 4th, featuring Mama Told Me (Davies-Green). I can hardly tell you how much I enjoy typing that.