Hello again

Hold the front page! I can now reveal that the blogosphere is flat. I know this because I travelled to the edge about three weeks ago, looked over it, fell off and haven't been seen or heard from since. Those poor cats have been getting interrupted for way too long.

My umbilical sundering from the world of blog was sudden, it was total, it was awful. It's cold and lonesome out here in the wastelands where the tumble weeds blow and you think of good ideas for blogs if you only had the time to write them up or a piece of paper to write them down, before they spin off and get lost in the place with all the other good ideas you've ever had but just didn't have a pen handy at the time.

So ripped was I from my moorings and in such a turmoil of upheaval, I didn't even read a blog, much less get to think about thinking about writing one. I slipped completely and unwittingly out of blog-watch mode, that suspended state of wandering around with senses on full alert, fervently hoping that an interesting topic will drop into your lap so you can dash off a jaunty passage or two for moo-dog and send readership stats over the top and into the tens of tens.

Oh I've been through the fires alright. I've been spending money, at a rate that my boss doesn’t, on re-decorating, re-furnishing, car maintenance and that long-wished for phallic reduction surgery that has me down to a manageable foot and a half now, and finally getting to the jacks at night without tripping myself up over old biggy and smalls.

So much has happened while I've been away that I couldn't get to blog about, most notable of course being the passing of Vera Duckworth on Coronation Street. She went off quietly in the end, most unlike Vera who was a prime candidate for the old 'take a heart attack/choke on one's own chagrin while tearing someone a new arsehole in a fit of rage' exit scenario. She dropped off in her chair in front of the telly, possibly when Eastenders came on and the shock of its unrelenting awfulness killed her. I'll be giving her a send off like Sally Fletcher as soon as I've time.

In other news, Liverpool are still shite, I checked in on them there last Sunday against Chelsea in the hope things have improved from the last time I looked, but nope - still shite. Cavan lost their first league match as well, so no change there either. Elsewhere, Baino threatened to take me off her blogroll, Radge gave out to me for not blogging, and I don't know what's going on with Grandad, Paul, Rosie, Twenty and all the others.

In an interesting development however, the skin on my elbow looks like Mother Teresa every time I take a shower. This, allied with the plastic bag hanging from the electricity cable over my house which looks like a shadowy, ghostly Jesus fluttering in the breeze, is no doubt is a sign from God so I'm expecting the stigmata in the post and will bless you all and heal the world as soon as I get the rubber stamp from the Vatican.

But anyway, reports of my demise were greatly exaggerated. Well, actually, they weren't really. In fact, as far as I'm aware, there wasn't one national headline of the "Dog gone! Moo has barked it" or "Sex god McDanger dead in bed collapse orgy pile-up" variety.

Regardless, I'll be seeing y'all soon I hope.