:: Silence Isn't Golden ::

No, I haven't died. It's not as if the tributes would have poured in anyway. I could bluster away about the fact that my job has changed radically, or proffer the feeble excuse that my home computer is on an interweb sabbatical, but I shan't.

Whilst my webtrawling exploits are partly on hold (restricted to 30-second news-browsing in my lunch break and the odd 5 mins at Gawain J's machine at home), my fellow bloggers are mining ever richer seams of web-u-tainment (a Chris Morris-ism if ever I heard one). That is to say, Taxloss provides an eclectic mix of thought-provoking politics and ephemera, Hypatia showers us with her golden vignettes of life in the Meeja Circus and Wideboy appears to capitalise on an inordinate amount of spare time (or a dire case of insomnia) by writing about anything under the sun. I, on the other hand (when I can be bothered to write) seem to dwell on matters theatrical, linguistic and whimsical. At which point I should note that a furious bout of typing has just displaced a Russian letter "sh", which I had carefully glued on to the relevant key on my English keyboard...

So perhaps it's time to pull my socks up. Perhaps I will finally get my home computer sorted out. Perhaps I will eventually devote some time to the original aim of setting up this blog: creative writing. Until then, I suspect mine will remain the South Eastern Trains of blogs - a patchy service of varying quality, not usually on time, but with extravagant promises of improvements in the near future...