Salut!

Cover stories: Dylan, Steeleye Span, Ralph McTell, Iris DeMent and Ed Sheeran challenged

Buy this early Dylan masterpiece at https://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/B0000024RQ/salusund-21

If my websites - okay, blogs if you must - began with Salut!, they do not end here. I try to avoid posting too much about football, folk music or the North East since they are covered adequately in their own habitats (except for poor, neglected old Salut! North and its infrequent memories of/thoughts on the North East).

But amid all else, I am keen to push Salut! Live a little. I have put a lot more effort into it of late and this has been rewarded, if only modestly, by an increase in readership.

Minding our language: Piers Morgan, Tommy Robinson and the free speech debate

My attachment to principles held by Voltaire - he may not necessarily have uttered or written the words 'I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say', but that essentially was his view - is well known. You are free to say whether you think I am right or wrong. Here, from my latest Comment piece for The National, Abu Dhabi ...

The despicable van attack outside London’s Finsbury Park mosque, which left one person dead and several injured, produced a hero for humanity. Indirectly, it also reactivated an important debate on the freedom of expression.

For the hero of the piece, look no further than Mohammed Mahmoud, the imam of a neighbouring mosque who stood between an understandably angry crowd and the driver, possibly saving him from serious harm.

The Notre Dame attack: Daesh (ISIL/ISIS/IS) or a deranged maverick?

Do I wish most of my work didn't involve writing about terrorism? You bet. But here are some thoughts that occurred to me after recent events in Manchester, London and Paris. As usual, written for The National* ....

West End escapism, New Forest splendour and Daily Mail whinges about Nazi slurs

Our return to the UK started with a delayed and fractious Easyjet flight - the food and drinks trolleys were so slow that the last few seats - yep including ours - were served just a couple of minutes before everyone was ordered to lift tables for landing.

But then there was the delight of An American in Paris, the best West End show I have seen in years. I could have done without the gigantic head in front of me (Russian, I decided) that made the first half a bit of an ordeal as he bobbed and I bobbed (while feeling guilty about what that meant for the people behind me).