May this serve as an apology. I'm sure there aren't that many people who read these tomes of gibberish unless they've stumbled upon them or have a passing curiosity, but to those few who do, I firstly thank you with all the grace I can muster, and secondly apologise effusively for the unforgivable lack of any kind of content on this page. It's not for lack of ideas, believe me.

At least 40% of it is being busy with other commitments, projects, people and such; although in reality that is no excuse, since anyone who calls themselves a writer should be able to knock out a few paragraphs without it biting a major chunk out of their day. I do like to think of myself as a writer, if only because its one of the very few useful 'talents' I possess that doesn't necessarily require a job title or pay check to justify. I've been told I'm funny enough to be a comedian, but if I tell the funniest joke ever in the middle of the woods, and no one is around to laugh or offer me my own sitcom week-nights on BBC 2, am I really a funny person?

I don't know why I'd be telling a joke when I'm in the middle of the woods, even if it is the funniest one ever. Even if I could speak the language of the woodland creatures, surely my first move would be to enquire about the availability of temporary accommodation, not engage in revelry. That would have to wait until we were gathered around the camp fire in the town centre, discussing the finer points of woodland politics while Mr. Fox played a lilting tune on his guitar. 

By the way, and not to defer even further from the subject, but Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009) is a brilliant movie. I fully recommend watching it. You should also read the Roald Dahl novel. Do that first in fact. Wes Anderson bring his own beautiful brand of quirky joy to the story, its voiced brilliantly by some A-list talent (including Anderson regular Billy f'n Murray) and who doesn't love an old-fashioned stop motion movie? Both Anderson and Dahl are masters of their respective crafts.

Anyway, the real reason I don't write and post as regularly as I should is a combination of several terrible characteristics that have developed over many years off ill discipline, which in itself is a bad characteristic to have. I'm not the kind of person who can say to himself, "You're going to sit down at your laptop and write for one hour, or however long it takes (or whatever) to do some meaningful work, and nothing is going to distract you, or take precedence over this piece of writing." 

I try to, but my brain answers back, "Why can't I? The internet is right there. Right there. LOOK! Don't try to ignore it, there's plenty other things you could while you're doing this oh so important piece of writing. No, I don't think it'll distract you. Not that much. Just load up Youtube, snap it right, snap the word document left and write away. You clearly think you're the second coming of Shakespeare, it shouldn't be that hard to shit out some paragraphs. I'm sorry, that was mean. You're a good guy. I like when we imagine stuff, like your lecture turning into a huge paint ball battle." By the time I've had that conversation, time's gone and the world's turned.

If that wasn't enough, I also hate planning, and rely way too much on inspiration and sudden jolts of creativity to come up with ideas. I'd love to be the kind of person who can draw up detailed plans and frameworks for pieces of writing, but the most I can call up is a hastily scrawled note on whatever scrap of paper is nearby, a note which barely makes sense and is more often than not illegible.

My third, but most likely not final, reason for not being any good at being a blogger is quite simple procrastination. This is a word that pervades many areas of my life. I seem incapable of writing, or even starting essay more than 36 hours before the essay deadline, and even then I won't be able to finish until there is, at most, half an hour to go. I guess this links back to the distraction thing, but I seem to be in possession of a sickening lack of focus. I have things I want to do, sometimes more than anything, but my mind is constantly going "Look at that! Never mind! Hey, you think people would keep bumblebees as pets if they were bigger? They're fluffy, and they don't really want to hurt you. You could ride it around town. By the way, you need to go to town later, we're out of bread. Who says 'go to town' any more? I guess people just say 'going shopping' nowadays. Hey, what were you meant to be doing?"

In short, I'm a kinda hazy guy! Sorry, bad joke. Won't be telling that one in the woods. Regardless, I hope this serves as some kind of apology for the big load of nothing I've produced since December. I've said it before and I'll most likely say it again, but I'll try to be more regular in the future. For what that declaration is worth. And seriously, watch and read Fantastic Mr. Fox. And everything Roald Dahl and Wes Anderson make. Roald Dahl has sadly passed away but Anderson's next movie , The Grand Budapest Hotel, comes out in March I think.

As always, a very good day to you, Sir's and Madam's, until we meet again.