KATHRYN STOLLMEYER WIGHT died last week and no other human being in my direct or indirect experience has ever been more widely and deeply loved. Forget David Bowie, Black Stalin, Prince, Nelson Mandela, Robin Williams, Princess Diana your granny and all the popes. Only Bob Marley and John Lennon provoked an outpouring of love and appreciation from as widespread a cross-section of people as Kathryn Stollmeyer Wight.

CARNIVAL FRIDAY in the Land of Calypso (even if watered down to modern empty soca) and Y’Boy twisting and turning in he bed like a British prime minister in he policies. Y’Boy been conflicted ‘bout the national festival for so long now, he’s feel like a double-agent sometimes.

But what to say about this modern Conny-voll, whereby the onliest thing that ent get completely mash up yet is pan. Y’Boy pores raise when he watch the video of Renegades’ performance of The Black Man Feeling to Party ‘til he wanted to cry and all, just the sheer awe-full beauty of the thing! How that must have sounded on the Savannah Track!

TTHE LAY PATIENT could be forgiven for thinking that, amongst the surgeon’s instruments of torture, the NG or nasogastric tube must be pre-eminent. A stiff plastic tube as long as your arm, it’s lubricated before insertion in your nose, about as effectively as putting a drop of olive oil on a watermelon before ramming it through a buttonhole.