I do have a few minutes of quiet each morning. However at these times, (pre-caffeine) I can barely string a sentence together let alone write anything worth publishing. (If you knew how many typos needed correcting already in these few words you would know what I mean).
At this time of year we tend to review our past twelve months and consider what changes could be made to improve the next year. One of the things up for scrutiny is his blog. There are no two ways about it, I am a rubbish blogger. (There is some argument that this doesn't qualify as a blog at all - more on this another time).
I don't post nearly often enough to keep any kind of readership, when I do it's often the lazy-blogger option of a recommendation to a site I have found. All we have here are a few bits of soup searching (I left that typo in because it's quality) and a few poems.
However I am going to continue. Not the least because it's good to have somewhere I can put my poems where someone might actually read them. But also because I like having somewhere where this side of my personality lives. A sign that I am who I am and that the "denial of service" only goes so deep. I am as rubbish a transvestite (now that’s a hard word pre-caffeine) as I am a blogger. Weeks turn into months and Kate continues snoozing inside me. When she does stagger groggily into the world though it’s nice that there is somewhere where she can say "Hi everyone, still here? What happened while I was away?" Although pre-caffeine this is liable to come out as "Hi, um - you, er - ssup? er nghf!"