The start of the year has turned out to be remarkably busy. Some of that’s good (gigs, poetry writing, friends visiting, thank you very much) and some of it’s been more of a slog (yes, Arts Council funding bid, I’m looking at you). This evening, as I paused for breath, I realised a whole week has passed since I officially launched snapshots at the Lych Gate pub in the heart of Wolverhampton – and I still hadn’t written anything to celebrate it.

Ye gods. That changes now.

First up, a confession: I’m always more than a little nervous about launching a book. There’s the nagging fear that what I hope will be a success will turn out to be me on my lonesome in the function room of a pub, stack of unsold books by my side. That’s the kind of fear which drives a man (this man, anyway) to invite everyone he can think of. And a few people he can’t. You live within a three-day drive of the West Midlands? Great, you’re in. Box-fresh poetry shall be yours! And to seal the deal… veggie samosas for all. Promise.

Was it the samosas that swung it? Maybe. The room was packed, there were folk I hadn’t seen for ages, and some I didn’t expect to see at all, and everything went way better than I’d dared to dream. Books and samosas flew off their respective shelves. Pints were drunk. Blather was had. Poems were set free into the world.

Thanks to everyone who came along. I went home happy, and full of samosas. Days don’t come much better than that.