And I’m tempted to say you’re welcome to it. With daughter Eva still with us and on holiday from work, my blogging activities will be somewhat restricted unless I can persuade her to go shopping with Emma. (Persuaded, did I say?) Until she leaves us to move into her new flat, I could do with closing the blog down temporarily and pretending that nothing at all has happened. Here in the UK there is a precedent for omitting a page or two from the timeline, by the way. Nothing whatsoever happened in British history between 3rd and 13th September, 1758. In that year, Britain decided to abandon the old Julian calendar in favour of the more accurate Gregorian calendar. The Julian year was 365.25 days long, and over time the calendar had fallen out of time with the seasons. To rectify the matter, when the changeover to the Gregorian calendar was made, 2nd September was immediately followed by 14th September. This year at least, I’d have liked that. [And by the way, there’s an R in the month. You really ought to have said Rabbits!]Archive for August 2010
And I’m tempted to say you’re welcome to it. With daughter Eva still with us and on holiday from work, my blogging activities will be somewhat restricted unless I can persuade her to go shopping with Emma. (Persuaded, did I say?) Until she leaves us to move into her new flat, I could do with closing the blog down temporarily and pretending that nothing at all has happened. Here in the UK there is a precedent for omitting a page or two from the timeline, by the way. Nothing whatsoever happened in British history between 3rd and 13th September, 1758. In that year, Britain decided to abandon the old Julian calendar in favour of the more accurate Gregorian calendar. The Julian year was 365.25 days long, and over time the calendar had fallen out of time with the seasons. To rectify the matter, when the changeover to the Gregorian calendar was made, 2nd September was immediately followed by 14th September. This year at least, I’d have liked that. [And by the way, there’s an R in the month. You really ought to have said Rabbits!]
All things considered, August has been a bit of a disappointment - a washout in fact, and I don’t mean climatically. I had hoped, once my Achilles tendon had mended, that Emma and I might take a few walks in the country together, so that she could at least get her tits out for the blog. We managed it last year, as you can see on the left. But ‘twas not to be. I have moaned and groaned too much already about the interruption to our lives caused by our visitors. Emma reminds me that the Irish couple A&P were only here for eight days - although it seemed much longer to me. And we could hardly refuse to accommodate daughter Eva in her hour of need. (For “hour” read “month”.) The boss tells me to look on the bright side - something that we depressives find difficult to do at the best of times. So here goes: I have fucked the boss regularly in spite of everything. And that’s about it. See you next month (which will be tomorrow, in case you hadn't noticed).
