It's been a while folks. Too long. Too long by half. Too too long by many halves.

But nonetheless, nevermind and what the hell. We are here and that really is all that matters. Nothing else matters. And while we're at it, Enter Sandman. (Metallica joke)

We're here and we promise to witter on ad nauseam about whatever comes out way on this journey of bizarre gigs, strange fundraisers and all else that occupies the lives of the hardest working band in rock TM.

So we thought we'd kick off with this image of 'backstage', fondly remembered by all of us.

Backstage is a strange netherworld, and not something often experienced by jobbing bands such as ourselves. Generally there is NO backstage. There is stage and there is pub. There is stage and there is EVERYWHERE ELSE.

But here we had backstage. Which is great. We can mess around, tinker with gear, all safe in the knowledge that the no-one can see us. The safety curtain separates performer from audience. A nice distinction that we enjoy as and when we can. A little 'Downton Abbey' you might say, but it's a rock staple that goes right back to the earliest blue clubs.

So here we find ourselves being told to 'Be Quiet' just before being told to 'Be Loud' - but politely, and by a lovely lady in period costume who no doubt got told to be quiet a lot herself, but hopefully by a genial baron as opposed to a dyspeptic factory owner with gout.