I'm back. Feeling a bit sheepish. By my standards anyhow. Well, there's a point at which writer's block seems ridiculous, don't you think? I mean, for how long can one hold ones hand to ones brow and utter, "oh cruel muse, wherefore art thou... why hast thou forsaken me?". Come on, for God's sake, I'm a hairy-arsed fellow from the Industrial Midlands of England, could anything be more inappropriate? No, I thought not; so, I've concluded it's a position which can be held for limited periods only, before one gets the feeling one is being, may I say, a little pompous? Nay, more like pompous, posturing, and prick-like.You agree? After all, I'm not a writer. In fact, I'm not anything much at all (though I'll concede being called a dabbler) So, what if my written efforts fall short of perfection? What if I'm completely misunderstood? What if I bore the tits off the few who bother to come my way? One takes ones chances. So here I am, on this sparkling, fresh May day, ostensibly beavering away at my desk on the office, but in truth, doing what I do best: nothing in particular, staring into space, and occasionally striking the keyboard of my computer. The fruit it bears is this post. It's a start.
So what's new with me? Well, I can't compete with this ever-changing world, with it's earthquakes, Royal weddings, and assassinations; but on a minor narcissistic note (such a surprise for a personal blogger) I do have what may be considered "breaking news" [roll of drums followed by a fanfare] Are you ready for this? Can you feel the tension? Wait for it... okay, you asked for it... here it comes... wooo hooo... don't know about you but I'm excited... chuckle... ahem... big news coming this way folks...
... my hair, dare I say it, is now officially deemed, long!
How do I know this? Well, a colleague asked the other day,
"Are you growing your hair Don?".
This is absolute and incontrovertible proof of its non-shortness. I replied in the affirmative, to which he said,
Like erm, duh...
"Because I can?".