So there I was, talking a little drunkenly to a work colleague who by happy coincidence also has a weblog. And I was explaining, in between slurs, the problem with maintaining weblogs. “You shee,” I rambled, “I think of loadsh of things to shay. Trouble is, I’m usually nowhere near a computer. So when I get home at night, oh damn it.” It was at this point that I knocked over a completely reasonable pint of beer. “So when I get home,” I ploughed on, “I’ve either forgotten what I wanted to shay, or I’ve had shuch a busy day I can’t be bothered to sit down for half an hour and tap it all in. Mine’s a Heineken, thanksh.”
And so, dear reader, that is about the size of it. Plenty of things have happened, a couple of them involving Jenson Button and hospitals. But work has been extremely busy for the best part of a month and all I want to do when I get home is vegetate.
I like to call it Blogger’s Block.
Quit your job and get a government grant to follow Boris around.