There are a couple of ways I might have died between the last blog entry and this. I might have been in a plane crash. I wasn't.

I might have been in a car crash, given that I managed to get no sleep before my flight between Jerusalem and Amsterdam, about 20 minutes dozing between Amsterdam and Manchester, and I didn't get to bed at home until about 43 hours after my last proper sleep. But I didn't crash my car. I had a tough final 20 minutes of the journey, as my system started to anticipate bed and stopped its suspension of exhaustion. But no crash or death.

I suppose I could even have metaphorically died on stage in Shrewsbury at my gig. There was no means of plugging in the guitar, the journey to the venue from my car had been stressful, and I was knackered. But I didn't die. In fact I gave a fairly assured performance.

So. I'm still here. There may be more to say about the events of the last couple of days, but the overall point is that I'm back to my world. Let's see how long it takes before I decide if I really want to be here.