I am away for 3 days this week and so need to send off a brief blog today to keep the punters interested. I have noticed a worrying drop in visits when I don't write anything, which is probably that old rule about action and reaction, but what do I know. The funny thing is, when I start writing again, the stats drop even lower. It must be the same phenomenon like when more people went to see the space where the Mona Lisa had been before it was stolen than they did when it was on the wall.
I actually have nothing to say today. I plan to carry over any spare from my 750 words to use in rants against the TV on Saturday, when my team (the blue team on the South Coast) play the FA Cup final against some tin pot team Blue from the capital. I intend to enjoy every second of the game, although that may be easier said than done. Instead, I may beat myself mercilessly about the head with a rusty Morris Minor starter handle at the start, so that anything that happens afterward is pure pleasure by comparison. It is only a game, it is a game of two halves, my grandmother could have scored that, are just some of the cliches that may well come forth from the TV, and I shall respond in kind with such beauties as "you don't know what you're doing" and "you must be joking ref" and "my cat could see that was offline". I certainly do not subscribe to the adage that you avoid cliches like the plague. Where would the fun be in that. Noone would know what I was saying if I kept using new phrases.
Oh well, it is all part of life's rich tapestry.
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