I was going to apologise for not posting yesterday, in case any of you were hanging around waiting for me.
But then I decided that if you were sad and lonely enough to be waiting for my rantings then you deserve to be disappointed.
It was a bit of a hectic weekend, as we travelled down to some place called Cork for the blog awards.
It was a surreal experience because, as we all know, bloggers don’t really exist – they are just comments that appear on my site and pages on my feed reader.
So the hotel was full of talking avatars.
There were dozens of others most of whom I remember, some of whom I forget, some of whom I can’t remember even though I want to and others I can’t forget no matter how hard I try.
Avatars kept coming up to me saying “Howya Grandad!” which was nice, though I don’t know how they knew I was me. I don’t know who I am half the time.
It was that kind of weekend.
Of course our K8 won the gong for Best Blogpost which I think was a very sound decision on the part of the judges.
In the meantime, The Irish Times called me a cunt.
But then I read it again, and I realised they had written ‘cult’. My fault. I must change these glasses.
Herself is delighted at that and is now shimmering around the house in a saffron robe chanting something about Harry Crishna, whoever he is.
I asked her if I was entitled to a few extra wives and she said I could have as many as I like as long as they don’t get under her feet.
I took the liberty of secretly recording that conversation, and my solicitor now has a copy, just in case.
I had a great weekend.
But now I think I’ll have a well earned nap.