Spent Sunday in Biggleswade. Had to have a good reason. Recorded "The Coast Of Amalfi" as a duet with Belgian classical singer Hans Peter Janssens. HP sings it in Italian, I in English with the occasional Italian phrase slipped in. He has a fabulous voice, a deep tenor, close to baritone. Leading man in Les Miserables at the moment - until June. Get there before he ends his run. It's still an amazing show, and HP is perfect. "La Costa Di Amalfi" will be released in April, in Belgium, Holland and Germany. There will be downloads available via iTunes or whatever. HP has recorded "Sebastian", also in Italian. The translation makes it very pretty and deeply romantic. The language is, of course, musical, and my wee song has taken on yet another new guise. In fact, "Sebastian" will be out first, in April they say, with "La Costa....." to come later.

And, on Monday, to the BBC Radio 2 National Folk Awards at The Brewery in London on Monday. Presented Best Original Song award to the mighty Martin Simpson. He is a gifted guitarist and has agreed to work with me on new songs later this year. His "Never Any Good", an irresistibly affecting homage to his late father, is one of the best original/folk songs you could ever hope to hear. Met Kate Rusby and tried to compliment her on the lyrics she has written on some of the tracks on her latest CD, but turned a little gibbering. She is pretty, and talented, and bright. Many highly talented people were in that big room, including Martin Carthy, John Martin, my old friends Steve Knightly and Phil Beer who are Show Of Hands, Graham Coxon, Ade Edmondson, several actors (including Brenda Blethyn who is as charming and chatty as you would have expected), John Paul Jones.....good bash and I was proud to have been asked to give a presentation, make a wee speech (which went a little awry somewhere near the middle as a sort of story veered off at a tangent) and join such folk dignitaries on their biggest night. MC, Mike Harding: stamina and respect all through. Sad to be shown an extraordinarily vituperative criticism of my presentation speech in The Times Arts section soon after. One of their stringers, probably getting about 50 quid for his efforts, an ex-Record Mirror scribe apparently, called Mark Ellen, seems to have a big, bad thing for me. Critics' opprobrium is water off a duck's back, mostly, after all these years, but he got personal, and I spoke respectfully and lovingly that night. We'll meet one day, provided someone points the humourless prig out to me, and I'll ask him to explain himself. He got away with it, avoiding libel, by the skin of his venomous teeth. I have to forgive. But forgetting his vitriol will not be at all easy. My friends just ask, why? Interestingly, only one friend/acquaintance/associate I have met since actually saw the piece. The Times refused to publish my letter in response: too long and containing "intemperate language". Too right, madam. How would you have reacted?

SH