Regular readers of my blog will have noted that recent posts have been scarce.
This is down to time – or lack of it – and the gradual realisation that sitting down every week to pen a recount of a recent escapade is about as achievable as developing a liking for George Osbourne.
However, it occurred to me recently that I take an awful lot of photos. Usually, these are of fields, bottles of beer or my dog, but there’s the odd one that tells a story of its own. This may lend itself to ‘phlogging’.
I must stress at this juncture that phlogging is not a form of sexual merriment but blogging taking on the form of a pictorial diary. I like the idea of that and, partly inspired by Mike Skinner (of The Streets fame – follow him on Twitter), I’m going to give it a bash.
Those are my last thoughts on a day which proved, beyond any doubt, that the benefit of taking holiday is questionable when the return simply lands you in a sea of unread emails and post it notes. And I haven’t even got a tan.