For those who have read my blogs, books, or more rarely, seen a play that I have written, will know that absurdity, madness and exaggeration cling to my missives like a suspect body odour. In these times when the creative monster hibernates, I am able to look backwards and forwards and digest this rather peculiar world that I've stumbled into. For that is just it, up until Spud I always felt that everything achieved was a consequence of my direct input over which I was (mostly) in control. ...