I'm 41, have broken out in cats and spend a lonely existence remotely typing garbage for overpaid lawyers who can't construct a basic sentence in even vaguely correct English. Apart from that, life's brilliant!
My last (and first) post possibly ranks as one of the most minimal blog entries ever (I’ve ruined it now …).
Anyhow – it’s still January, and not only did we get Ralphed at Christmas, but twice since. Oh, my poor aching liver.
Still and all, it’s been a nice and lively January, what with the Winter Ales Festival, the aforementioned Ralphing and Scott’s birthday this weekend (we’re off to Spice on Beech Road for a slap-up meal tomorrow). Maybe February should be the official “no drinking, no eating” time? After all, it is the shortest month …
Have a nice big fat pile of books to read, thanks to BookMooch.com and Santa bringing me some lovely pressies – favourite book recently was Sebastian Faulks’ “Human Traces” – amazingly enjoyable, beautifully written – have mooched more of his and am waiting with bated breath.
Other than that, just sitting around at home doing my humble job. It’s winter. Apart from the usual desperate urge for a Guardian, give me ONE good reason to leave the house!
Okay, that’s it for now. Have had a dab of Rioja and am therefore typing v-e-r-y slowly and carefully, so had better cease, if only for the sake of posterity.