Up-to-date pop news: it has emerged - as things do in newspapers - that Kate Bush may tour again. If true, she'd be gigging for the first time in 30 years.
Her one and only tour was a magnificently choreographed affair that took so much out of her - she's a proper dancer, as well as singer and musician - that she could never face doing it again.
I didn't see it - my ears were lost in a hailstorm of heavy guitars at the time - but I have it on video, and it's the best performance in pop history. And, yes, I'm including Jimmy Shand's Accordion Extravaganza at Nether Feckle Bowling Club in that assessment.
Kate Bush created musical works of real beauty, and boosted my morale at times when I really needed it. The lassie has a valuable gift.
I wonder sometimes, though, if her best work is behind her. Her early works were infused with genuine, bright, naive, questing attempts at philosophy and understanding. They seemed more infused with hope than later attempts, which seem to me sadder, coloured by experience, darkened by disappointment, family bereavement, and general horror of one's fellow man.
If you've a mojo about your person, then that sort of thing is bound to play havoc with it.