It's all in the numbers

GOOD NEWS: Well I'll be tuggered, Golfy has only been and gone and done it. I now have a read count on my blog.

BAD NEWS: Now people know the paltry number of people reading my blog.

Well, you cannot hide the truth. Well, obviously, with statistics of course you can hide the truth. You can even create a whole new truth with statistics. In fact, when you come to really think about it, in the world of statistics, the sky can be any colour.

Squirrels. Don't you just love them. Golfy's nickname for me is Squirrel. It is a reference to a scene or two in Up. You know the one, where the dogs are chatting and half way through a sentence one shouts "Squirrel". All the dogs look at the same spot on the horizon for 2 seconds, then continue on chatting as if the squirrel had never existed. Apparently, if Golfy is to be believed (and let's be honest, there is a lot to believe), then that is me. I am king of the digression, and I am very proud of that title. When I talk, everyone else is either confused at best, lost at worst, and maybe even thinking "what has this person been drinking?".

I am in a meeting at the moment, and we are discussing getting up early and doing exercise and blogging and other stuff. The scottish bloke can do exercise, but not blogging. The west country guy can do blogging and a bit of exercise. The really good looking and charismatic one (me, of course) does blogging a bit, exercise not much, but holidaying a lot. I can holiday anywhere, anytime and with anyone, and that is what makes me tick. Give me sun, or quiet, and no access to TV or phone, and I can become very happy. Throw in an egg bap, cup of tea and a slice of cake for afters, followed by a game or two of Canasta, then I am in seventh heaven.

It reminds me of the tale when a slug meets a centipede on the road, and the slug says to the centipede "How do you walk with all those legs?". The centipede thinks about it for a while, and trips over his own feet. Moral of the story, is probably something about not thinking too hard about stuff before doing it. Like when I was young, I used to try and ride my bike along the top of a low wall. This is a wall that is about 25cm wide (10 inches on old money) and a drop of about 1 metre (3 feet in old money). Now, if I was trying to ride along a white line painted on the floor that was 25cm wide, then I could easily do that. No problem. Take that white line and suspend it 1m above the ground, then it becomes a totally different experience. Thinking too much about the pain if I fall see. I can do it, but the impending pain makes me think too much. Result? Bruised shins and a feeling that I won't ever be trying that again.

So, where was I?