I haven’t blogged much lately. Not for nearly a year. That’s not really the essence of the point of the aim of blogging is it? Even I know that, and I’m a techno-twit. It’s ok, you won’t have noticed, because you’re not reading it. Just as I’m not writing it. Except, hang on, someone is reading it. There were seven hits today – who are you? Show yourselves! (Seriously though, comments always welcome, so long as they’re nice and that.)
So what’s been keeping me from the blog-o-sphere? Is the Twitter-sphere or Twotter-sphere or the Facebook-osphere tempting me into other spheres? It is not. Is it the life-and-small-children-osphere, tugging at my sleeve for attention and often biscuits? It is.
So despite a huge number of months elapsing between this entry and last, I have no reflections on age (that’s the point of this blog, after all). Except, having given up alcohol for January, I realise I look more tired than before. Which seems a bit unfair. And also, I like to cut my sanwiches into four now. I can’t see myself ever going back to just halving them. That must be an orbiting 40 thing.