ObabScribbler—star of words both written and spoken—has made an utterly wonderful reading of, perhaps, my oddest story: Twilight Sparkle Makes a Cup of Tea.

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Despite popular rumors I am not, in fact dead.

Honest.

I'm just... ruined by the amount of work I have[1]. I can't seem to get to grips with it all and all my social obligations are slipping. In fact, if you've e-mailed me or something lately and I seem to be giving you the silent treatment: it's absolutely not your fault. I'm just completely swamped. And rubbish.

Sorry.

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