A Month And A Half.

I suppose I had better write something. I've been emailed asking what I'm doing and everything.

By one person but it still counts.

I've wracked my brains and the thing is...well, nothing much has happened. So, we're going to get all, like, interactive and shit as I briefly mention some tedious events of the past few weeks and all six of my readers can cast a vote as to which they would like to become an actual proper blog post.

I know. Amazing.

This is what I've got:

1) It seems I have a broken toe.

2) I attempt to travel the length of England by train despite realising ten minutes before departure that my tickets are only valid for the previous day.

3) My house is broken-into in the middle of the night, whilst I am at home - hilarity does not ensue.

4) I 'am involved in' an absurd confrontation in a fast-food outlet in the Cotswolds. By 'am involved in' I mean 'foolishly provoke'.

And that's been it, to be honest. Eight weeks. I may as well not exist.

Not included in the list are -

A) Bitter-sweet snatched moments with my son and daughter about which I write mawkish posts. Let's face it, we'll all sick of those.

B) 'Amusing' observations about how, like, working relationships are a bit like, you know, ACTUAL romantic ones - featuring myself and Blonde Colleague. It wasn't a very funny joke to begin with and no-one seemed to 'get it' and just thought we were going to have some sort of affair or something and didn't fully appreciate the totally hilarious irony inherent in my amazingly brilliant writing. So enough of that. Blame yourselves.

That's it I think. Cast your votes.

(Hint: not the 'broken toe' thing. It's really not that interesting.)