Now, what shall I blog about today? Perhaps I could post a recipe for perfect Yorkshire puddings or a bare-your-heart kind of poem . Maybe I could clear out the dormant blog links in my side margin and bid farewell to those former cyber chums. What happened to them anyway? Was there a massive blog pile up in cyberspace or did they all simultaneously join aerobic classes?
With the Labour party conference starting in Liverpool, perhaps I could write about the Miliband brothers and how David Miliband would have made a much better leader than his bumbling eggheaded brother who got to the top courtesy of a cruel act of fratricide and a bunch of vague and breakable promises he made to the trade unions. Anyway, Ed will probably find the wheels missing from his limousine when he returns to the multistorey near Albert Dock.
What about former neighbours Doris and Ken? How long have they been in their grave now?
Perhaps I should blog about our lovely daughter Frances who is twenty three years old today! How the years pass. She was born during the Seoul Olympics. Intelligent, determined and reliable, I often think of her as a chip off the old block. But like me she can also be exceedingly silly!
She has a day off work and soon I am going to drive her back to Leeds - the car over-laden again. We are going to stop for lunch at "The British Oak" near the Yorkshire Sculpture Park. I think the Labour conference should adopt a new policy that would certainly be a massive vote winner. In addition to statutory holidays every worker should be allowed to have a day off on his/her birthday. Three day weekends would also be a massive vote winner.
Of course I could simply blog about our delightfully unpredictable English weather and how this week is already providing us with the beginnings of an "Indian summer". By Thursday we should all be basking in temperatures of 24/25 degrees celsius or is that only in London and the Home Counties upon which the majority of our meterorological experts seem to focus? One Nation? You must be kidding!
I could hark back to the musical legends of my youth - Leonard Cohen, Donovan, Free, Joni Mitchell, The Nice and of course the lord of them all Mr Robert Zimmerman from Hibbing, Minnesota - Bob Dylan. Once, they meant so much to me but now music is resigned to the cobwebbed attic of my existence.
Oh dear, what shall I blog about as I wait for our little princess to finally leave the bathroom and get her stuff together for the trip back to Leeds? I guess it's just one of those days. I don't know if I am coming or going. I think I'd better just leave it for today.