I write to you today from the rattler on the way down to London for tomorrow’s #langcatlive Divide And Conquer event; our biggest to date. As we head South – happily pulling out of Waverley just as an Inspector Sands alert was sounded and if you don’t know what that means ask anyone over the age of 40 – I’m looking out the window on one of the nicest stretches of coastline Scotland has to offer and trying to get my head in the right place. We’re all set for tomorrow – well over 300 of you filthy animals are booked on, couriers are arriving, branding is happening, and lots of the incredible, amazing, nonpareil lang cat team are converging on Kings Place to kick all your asses.

BTW, If you do want to come and aren’t booked we’re sold out but not oversold, if you know what I mean, we’re not Ryanair or anything, and there are usually dropouts on the day (“oh I’ve suddenly developed a terrible case of intimate warts, are you streaming it?”) so drop me a note and I’ll do what I can.

I’m proud of all the stuff the lang cat puts out and everything we do for clients, but there’s something different about in-person events; they’re just wired into my brain in a visceral sort of way that nothing else quite matches. I love doing them and get a huge buzz from it all, but everything has a price and post-event lows are a feature/bug of the blasted heath that is my psyche and not just from hangovers; oftentimes other cats have had to say “sorry about him” as I mump about the place. So if you see me tomorrow night staring into a glass of something and not being Clubbable , don’t take it personally and I’m sorry about me.

What do you want to get out of events? I’ve spent a bit of time thinking about this lately. A common response is that if there are a couple of nuggets of ‘actionable’ (euurrgh) stuff, if the seats are comfy, the food is good and there’s some time to catch up with industry peers then that’s a good day. But having been running events for some years now, I think I have a different answer. What I want is something true; something with resonance that stays with you after the sugar rush of the event is over. You can’t really programme these moments; all you can do is try and make a space where they can happen and then step back. We’ve had our fair share – I think of the tremendous and very entertaining ruck between Jackie Leiper of Widows and Dave Ferguson of Seccl at HomeGame 3 in 2023, or Victor Sacks’ defence of being an adviser rather than a planner at Home Truths in London the same year, and especially Laura Young’s raw and honest session at HomeGame 4 last year. I don’t know what we’ll get this year, but I’m looking forward to finding out.

Listen, I’ve banged on a bit more than I meant to on all that, just enjoying being out of time on the train and reflecting. I could go back and edit it, I suppose, but I think we all know I can’t be arsed. Of course you’re not here with me and for all you know I actually HAVE been back through and edited it. You must learn to live with uncertainty in this vale of tears.

So no “proper” content this time, hope you’ll forgive. Normal-for-a-given-value-of-normal service will resume next week.

And your music choice? I’ll go for something that has always had that resonance and staying power for me, even though it hasn’t got so much as one distorted guitar or blast-beat in it. It’s not the cheeriest but that’s OK, it’s a perfect small slice of something and that’s enough. Please enjoy of Runaground by the also nonpareil James and I’m sorry about me.