To scat, or not to scat? That is the question. Well, at least the question I posed on jazz.com, which has just published another article (well, more a ’short opinion piece’ than an ‘article’) by me on its blog and homepage. Hurrah! Click below to read it:

And yes, it’s official: I am a ’singer/writer/blogger’. It must be true, because jazz.com says so. I’m not sure whether I’m prouder of the fact that I’ve achieved this status, or the fact that my name has appeared on a website alongside Wayne Shorter’s. Either way, it feels good .

So that’s the end of that post, then.

<Drums fingers>

It’s a very grey, very rainy day out today. Look for yourself:

So whereas I thought it might be a day for sunbathing and swimming, it’s actually going to be a day for writing - not just the blog, but also a piece for jazz.com, and the celebrity fashion flog (that’s a ‘fake blog’, fact - or indeed etymology - fans) I write silly weekend posts for. And possibly also a day for watching CNN while I walk very quickly for 15 minutes, ie. ‘hitting the gym’.

I’m entering my final week here now - my last gig is a week tonight - and so I’m mindful of what I’ve got planned for each day before I leave. I’m also very mindful of the life that awaits me back home; not least because the freelance job which was my main source of income before I left is no more. As Scooby-Doo’s Shaggy would say: Yikes (Scoob).

Still, I’m a firm believer not in fate, but in seeing such things as chances to go in different directions; and as such, very often a Good Thing In Disguise. Fear leads one to blitz for work, and as a result: I may end up doing some work for an old employer which would involve more writing; I’ve applied for a paid blogging job on a news site; I’ve pitched the idea of a feature about my time out here to a leading women’s magazine; and the endorsement of the editor of jazz.com, a heavyweight jazz writer and critic, has given me a boost in terms of writing about the music I make, and led me to offer my freelance services to a British jazz magazine. Well, pretty much the only British jazz magazine - but a jazz magazine nonetheless (and no sniggering at the back there, please). Oh, and I’ve fortuitously just heard from a London-based jazz band who are up to their eyeballs in function gigs, and need a dep for their female singer. (Who’s also called Andrea. And no, I still don’t believe in fate. )

I’ve realised only belatedly that being out here has actually been good in terms of earning money; and given the work situation back home, wonder whether I should have taken up T’s offer of extending my stay here for another month. But I have family and friends to get back to - and two brand new members of that group in the form of my best friend’s new baby, and my sister’s impending one - and, to be truthful, two months has felt like exactly the right length of time to be here.

Obviously before I leave I’ll write a final post about my experience out here - a conclusion, as it were. But in the meantime: as I think about leaving and returning to London, I’ve realised more than ever just how much I love my life there, how much I love my friends and family, and how grateful I am at the thought of seeing them all again.

But now, to writing about Britney’s latest fashion blunder…

Well, sort of. At least for writing about jazz, if not singing it. Or rather: writing about singing it.

The American website jazz.com has just put up a fluffy piece I wrote for them about my experience out here, from the musical side of things. It’s on their homepage today - click below or read it here.

As you will see, I’ve already been attacked for my take on the ubiquitous Michael Buble. Oops.