This week has been a dead loss as far as what's loosely called "my life" is concerned. The phone's been running hot with talkback radio calls and bizarre inquiries from journalists ("Does Cate Blanchett own a Bill Henson?"), while I am desperately attempting to get to my dining room table, where the alarmingly fat US copy-edit of The Singing is demanding my attention. (Author copies of the Australian edition just arrived this moment - a short pause for champagne - it's been a long road!)

So I haven't had any time to write the reviews I planned of Hoy Polloy's production of How To Disappear Completely and Never Be Found, and of Two Blue Cherries' gorgeous production of Three Dog Night, in which I was planning to discourse thoughtfully about plays (these days known as "text-based theatre"). And I'm still not sure if I can get there. The Australian ran a short review on Monday of How To Disappear Completely, which will have to do for now, and Three Dog Night has just closed after a deservedly successful season which I hope some of you caught. I'll try to blog them - both these productions deserve attention - but no promises.