It's been a good month for nostalgia: no sooner back from Dublin than off to stay a few days with my student-days flatmate Helen who now lives with husband Tony in leafy Hertfordshire. Lots of reminiscences over lingering lunches in her sunny garden, including a visit from Mag who shared our Dublin digs.

Helen dug out this snap of us revising for our finals, an OMG-44-years ago, and Tony took an updated image of us in similar pose but I managed to delete it on our woodland walk so here instead are my friends sitting on a badger.

Back in Frome, and a great night of dancing with Orkestra del Sol at the Cheese & Grain, with Frome's own wonderful Street Bandits providing a terrific curtain raiser. Think gipsy rhythms, street-theatre clowning and flamboyant outfits, and you've got the picture for both these great bands.

Over in Bristol it's Mayfest time and I went with Alison to see The Summer House, billed as a comedy thriller and featuring three talented performers in a shambolic romp through male mythologies both contemporary and ancient nordic. A wonderful comedy - original, physical, and very funny - but despite the fights, portents, hints, and Viking visitations this stag-party romp never ticked the thriller box for me. Alison felt a Lord of the Flies vibe as booze and testosterone flooded the action but there was no Piggy, only Loki, and no real menace among this endearing trio. After 90 minutes the show ended with a song while loose ends remained shimmering like the Northern Lights in the Icelandic sky, to rousing applause from the Bristol Old Vic Studio audience. And jolly well deserved too.