Key requirements for a blog: 1) write little; 2) write often; 3) write interesting(ly); and 4) engage your audience.
I'm proud to be able to tell you today that I excel on no less than zero out of the four of the above principles.
Not only am I too scared to look at the date of my last blog post on here, but I've completely forgotten what I wrote about. You could wave a copy of my last entry under my nose and I'd have trouble distinguishing it from a hole in the ground, although that probably says more about my goldfish-capacity memory.
Here's a lightning-quick, probably-not-as-interesting-to-you-as-I-think-it-is recap of the last 12-ish months of my life:
- Stopped smoking;
- Left job and England behind and moved to Ibiza;
- Got bored of not using my brain after 1 week and came home;
- Went back to my former NHS job;
- Bought 'spensive suit at Marks & Sparks. Felt (and walked) like a pimp. Got funny looks from other commuters;
- Visited parents for xmas. Ate too much;
- Took some photos of some things;
- Wisdom tooth snapped in half. Still managed to avoid seeing dentist for two months;
- Went to dentist. Dentist pulled tooth out. Asked me - with evil glint in eye - to come back next week. TBC;
- Took some more photos of some more things (to be posted to Flickr sometime);
- Visited the Better Half's parents in Belgium, yet wasn't kidnapped by MI6 operatives, didn't experience extraordinary rendition to a far-away corner of Russia to answer "questions", didn't enjoy a polonium milkshake in a Belgian Maccy D's, and wasn't even punched in the face by BH's father. Highly disappointing...;
- Did some coding with this Drupal interwebs thingbob I build websites with. Very fun (for me; highly boring for normal people, I know); will be releasing three Drupal modules - probably to perpetual dev/alpha - just as soon as I figure out how to do so on drupal.org;
- Noticed slight draft in "downstairs area" and stifled giggling behind/below me as I ascended escalators at London Bridge station one morning. On arriving home, found fist-sized hole worn through crotch of suit trousers. Suspect hot pink-trimmed boxer shorts may have been complicit in giving the game away;
- Took trousers to M&S today and begged lady to help me fix my suit in time for next week's job interviews. I was prepared to use begging, pleading, and offers of bribery with freshly baked goods from Greggs, but in the end only had to resort to being polite. Turns out she was a Very Nice Lady indeed, as I got a full refund on trousers and jacket and headed straight downstairs where Frank the Suit Fitter, the BH and I picked out a hella-nice new suit;
- Tomorrow I'm taking back my shoes which have also fallen apart. What's the worst that could happen?**
- Oh, and did I mention I'm looking for a job? Yes? Then I shall shaddap now.
* Sorry, there's no talk of proportional representation here really; I only said it to get you to read the rest of this blog entry - I know how politics can be sexy. Ahem... ;o)
** Yes, I have seen the Dr Pepper adverts :o)
Thanks for reading! See you all in 12 months...?