Fin de Saucisson

James Proclaims (4)

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We’re now in the last week of February 2020 and I have clearly missed my goal of making sure I post something on this blog every Monday.

By failing to write anything at all this month.

Until today.

Then again, the ‘posting every Monday pledge’ was when I was still subject to EU regulations, whereas now we’ve got our country back I’m free to post as little or as often as I want.

Although if I’m honest I would like to post something every week and my failure to do so in February is really a personal failing rather than as a result of Brexit.

Also, the EU don’t really care about my blog.

Which is another reason I’m glad to see the back of them.

Oh yes I may once have been a certified ‘remoaner’ but now we’re actually out I’ve seen the light. Britain post-Brexit is just so much better in every way imaginable.

Except for the fact that everything is largely the same.

But it would be churlish to suggest that Brexit wasn’t the best thing to ever happen to this country just because it was preceded by three years of economic uncertainty and massive social division and that it was predicated on lies and no small amount of racism.

Because now that it’s here it’s just brilliant.

Obviously I was slightly alarmed to discover that I can no longer speak French. I don’t speak a lot of French anyway, what with not having travelled abroad since the glorious decision back 2016 to reclaim our sovereignty, but occasionally I like to practice. But on the 1st February morning the words literally choked me.

And when I popped out to get my morning croissant that day I was met with blank uncomprehending stares in my local supermarket, who offered me a bowl of porridge instead.

Porridge!

And when I tried to get hold of some German sausage I was met with equal incomprehension and no small amount of innuendo.

Obviously, none of the above is true. Although I would always exercise a certain amount of caution when using the term ‘German sausage’. Context is key I find.

Anyway, it’s the end of February, more or less, and this is the only thing I’ve managed to write.

This is, admittedly, not fantastic.

But it’s still more than I managed to write in February 2019.

So this, believe it or not, actually represents progress of sorts.

It’s amazing what counts as achievment when you set the bar low enough.

And The Bells Weren’t Ringing Out For Brexit Time

James Proclaims (4)

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In the ‘real world’ there is a man called James who looks a lot like me and who some people might describe as reasonably intelligent. He even has a real job and some very real responsibilities.

And that man can create the impression that he knows about stuff like politics. He can hold conversations with other reasonably intelligent people about current affairs and no-one would imagine that he is mostly regurgitating soundbites that he heard on Radio 4 on his drive into work. And few would deduce that he only listens to Radio 4 to paper over the cracks of his ever-depleting understanding of just what is going on in the world.

To be fair, he did once have a solid enough grasp on things. He had a worldview that was underpinned by a moderate level of education, an occasional glance at the more left-wing broadsheets and a circle of pseudo intellectual friends who spouted the same kind of well-meaning liberal postulations that he did.

In his younger days you might even have described him as an idealist. Driven by a misplaced righteous anger, he wanted to make the world a better place. But to be fair, he also wanted to get drunk so beyond a few inebriated debates in the pub, he never really did anything to actually make the world a better place. But he meant to get around to it one day.

As he grew older, he became more moderate in his views. He was still fairly left-wing in principle, but more pragmatic and certainly less angry.

Then Brexit happened and he realised that actually he was both quite annoyed and worried about that.

But then it just went on and on and on and on and actually, even though he was still quite irritated by the whole thing, he was also a bit bored by it.

Then he became a father for the first time and forgot there was actually anything else happening in the world beyond his daughter.

But Brexit was sort of still happening. But it also wasn’t happening. And people seemed to still be getting excited about it and angry about it, often at the same time. And some people thought it could still be stopped, and maybe it could be, but the people who tried to stop it were quite bad at convincing people that it needed to be stopped. And the people who wanted it to happen were also quite bad at making it happen because none of them could agree on what it actually was. The only thing they agreed on was that it was the will of the people. And they were wrong about that too, because it was really only ever the will of some people.

And then there was an election. But that was nothing new because there had been a lot of those. But this election meant that the people who really wanted Brexit to happen could actually claim to have some kind of mandate. But really, they only got that mandate because the people who didn’t want Brexit to happen were largely incompetent and couldn’t get anyone to vote for them. Not even the people who mostly agreed with them.

And so, this week Brexit will finally happen. And the people who really don’t want it to happen will all sigh and feel a bit sad but know there’s really nothing that they can do to prevent it.

And those that want it to happen will moan because they think everyone should be celebrating and will be annoyed that some people won’t be. And they’ll be especially annoyed that Big Ben won’t be bonging, even though, due to ongoing repairs it was always logistically unlikely to happen.

And even though people are claiming that Brexit is now done it obviously isn’t. So, it will still be in the news all the time and people will still be talking about it and the division that it has caused will continue and no-one is really going to be happy.

And although the UK will cease to be part of the EU officially this week, nothing much is actually going to change until the end of the year.

And though January is nearly over it is still really the beginning of the year. So the year ahead seems like it will be quite an unpleasant affair all around.

And even at the end of the year there’s no guarantee that anything will really have been sorted out.

And as James ponders this all with a grim resignation but also a kind of pathetic apathy, his eye turns to his 18-month old daughter who is currently sifting through an old photo album in which there are numerous pictures of him from back in the days when he could still afford to go on holiday.

And as she gleefully points out, time and again in her newly acquired vernacular, “that’s my daddy!” he ponders the irony that she is ignoring the very real presence of her daddy in the room in favour of these 2D images of his younger self.

But, he reflects, though the politics of today might mean that the tomorrow his daughter will know might have tougher challenges than perhaps it should, her very existence means that, in his own way, he has contributed to making the world a better place after all.

Most Melancholic Monday

James Proclaims (4)

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Today is Blue Monday and therefore officially the most depressing day of the year. This is based on actual scientific fact and not a slap in the face to those people who are actively campaigning to raise the profile and reduce the stigma of mental health.

I actually wasn’t feeling that bad when I woke up this morning but then I remembered what day it was and got my act together. I’ve been suitably morose since around 7:45 this morning and can only apologise for the inappropriate levels of good humour I was experiencing in the preceding 90 minutes or so. Obviously, the fact that 7:45 is roughly when I arrived at work is of no relevance to my sudden dip in mood.

Actually, all of the above is a lie. I’m writing this on Saturday and in a delightful mood. I’ve scheduled this to appear in the blogosphere on Monday morning because, after a poor 2019 in blogging terms, I’m attempting to reignite my blogging mojo by having a regular blogging day. And that day is Monday.

I don’t know why.

I’m not saying I’ll only blog on a Monday (last week I also posted a bad poem on Thursday) but the aim is to post something every Monday as a minimum.

Even if that something is a meandering post vaguely, but not really, about a made-up day, which serves no purpose other than encouraging people to feel artificially miserable.

It’s all content after all. And I hope, in some small way my content makes you feel content.

But if you’re feeling content on Blue Monday then you’re getting it wrong.

So, go away and do something that makes you feel unhappy.

Fortunately, by the time this is published I will be in work and, Blue Monday or not, it seems unlikely I’ll be in the most joyful of moods.

But rest assured, I will be honouring the day by not just feeling forlorn on my own, but actively trying to make others feel despondent.

It’s the least I can do.

Surely Monday the 13th is as bad as Friday the 13th? Or worse? Cos it’s Monday….

James Proclaims (4)

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It’s the second Monday in January and Christmas is now but a distant memory. Although my bank balance might disagree and pay day does seem to be a frighteningly long time away.

Also, my 17-month-old daughter, who is continuing to make impressive leaps in terms of her vocabulary acquisition and likes to make use of this skill at every available opportunity, is still regularly punctuating many a silence with a cheerful “Ho Ho Ho”. I taught her to say this in December and back then it was adorable, whereas now it is…

…no, it is still adorable.

Nonetheless we are working on new words and phrases and perhaps looking to phase out that little party trick.

Another of her favourite words is ‘Chocolate’. I suspect I taught her that one too. There is still a lot of it about and she’s decided that she’s a fan. Fortunately, she will be saved from childhood obesity because her father tends to scoff the lot.

To mitigate this inability to not eat the readily available calories that persist in my home, I am maintaining my gym regime. This is only a new thing insofar as I still can’t swim due to a much improved but still unresolved ear problem, but I have been attempting to improve my cardiovascular condition for a while now so no-one should be under any illusions that I am attending the gym in an attempt to fulfil a New Year’s Resolution. If that were the case I’d have definitely given up by now.

I’ve been back in work for a full week and I’m still keen to pursue early retirement. I just need to find a generous benefactor to pay for this. Currently none seem to be forthcoming, so the daily grind must continue.

Which means that any hope I might have had of reducing my caffeine intake is seeming increasingly fanciful. That is another daily grind that must continue. Although I appear to have recovered from my pretentious connoisseur phase during which I insisted on grinding my own coffee beans. There is no doubt that I enjoyed delicious coffee during that phase but it was somewhat labour intensive and, on balance, not really worth it.

Given that working for a living does seem to be a necessary evil for the foreseeable, I am considering changing employers. I have nothing against my current employers (well nothing that I would commit to writing on the internet anyway) but I would like an employer who will pay me more for doing my job. And January does seem to be the season for jobhunting when you work in the education sector. So, I am looking and indeed considering applying for several opportunities.

Whether I am successful in securing any of these opportunities remains to be seen. I tend to be quite good at getting myself onto shortlists for interviews but sometimes less good at getting myself onto the even shorter list of being the person who is actually offered the job. Although I do have a tendency to only put myself forward for jobs which represent an obscene pay increase so one would imagine that the competition is a little stiffer than it might be if I pursued more realistic opportunities.

Obviously if an obscene pay increase were my only motivating factor, I might be better off looking outside of the education sector, given that it is not a sector notorious for its high salaries. And maybe that would be a move worth considering. But I fear, at this stage of my career, I have rather put all my skillset ‘eggs’ firmly into the education sector ‘basket’. And I would generally feel happier doing a job I’m actually good at. It’s not a deal breaker though…

Call me hardboiled but, having just used the word ‘egg’ and having concluded last week’s post with some egg-shell-ent yolks, I appear to have poached the same idea this week. Perhaps because I’m feeling a little fried. I’m scrambling for ideas…

I’m batter than this. Omlettin’ you know it won’t happen again.

Please whisk coming back next week.

Xmas Epilogue or Yuletide Eulogy

James Proclaims (4)

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Today is January 6th and by any definition Christmas is now over. Except for all the masses of chocolate, wine and beer that appear to be in plentiful supply chez moi. This surplus is partly due to the fact that I was, for much of the festive period, quite unwell and indeed on medication, so I was less inclined to consume it all as readily as I might under normal circumstances. However, I did still consume a fair bit of chocolate and, once I’d finished with medication (circa New Year’s Eve), I also upped my alcohol intake so the remaining produce is partly still around because there was just a lot of it to begin with.

People that I know seem to be aware that I like all of the above consumables, probably  because I tell them this at every available opportunity. Consequently a lot of the gifts I receive tend to be of that ilk. And I receive a surprising amount of gifts for someone as curmudgeonly as I imagine myself to be.

It’s ok though; my New Year’s Resolutions, such as they are, did not include going on a diet. It wouldn’t work. I like food and drink too much to ever really be committed to not consuming it.

I’d rather exercise, which I am, once again, doing quite a bit. I’m not quite up to swimming, which is currently my preferred method of calorie burning, because a recent spell of consecutive ear infections has resulted in medical advice to avoid the pool for a few weeks. But I am going to the gym, which is fine. Not fun, but functional. Functional has the word fun in it. But they are not synonyms.

Today, though, I return to work after having had the last two weeks off.

As previously mentioned, I was quite ill for the last fortnight. As were my wife and child. We did our best to enjoy the festivities but my home was not a happy place. Still, I’d rather relive the last two weeks in perpetuity than go back to work.

Insofar as I have to do any job, I don’t especially object to my job but in truth I can’t imagine a scenario whereby doing any job would be better than not having to work at all.

Some people suggest that not having a job would be boring.

Those people are wrong.

I could happily fill my time without the need for a job. I’m not saying I’d contribute anything valuable to society, but I would be happy enough.

But for some reason my mortgage provider expects me to make ‘regular payments’ to them just because they once lent me quite a lot of money so I could buy a house. It’s extortion really.

But as no-one is prepared to give me money for sitting around in my Christmas onesie, eating chocolate and watching bad movies, I have had to pack up said onesie for another year and don a shirt and tie again. And it’s not even the ‘fun’ Christmas-themed tie that I ‘hilariously’ wore the week before Christmas.

But the chocolate-eating will continue. I have enough to last me until Easter and we all know what happens then.

And alongside the new influx of chocolate, there will be an eggs-cuse to crack lots of egg-cellent yolks, which I shell be egg-static about.

Too soon?

 

 

 

 

 

So You Say You Want A Resolution…

James Proclaims (4)

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Ah 2020. What a year.

I mean it’s obviously only just begun, but I have a feeling that 2020 will be a year like no other.

Call it 2020 foresight if you will, but I predict that the year to come will be one that changes everything.

But obviously not in a good way.

There appear to be quite a lot of mad people in charge of the world at the moment. More than is normal or sustainable.

Nations appear to be divided and political rhetoric is becoming increasingly divisive and inflammatory.

Oh and according to the Extinction Rebellion, who in spite of their name, all seem to be quite nice middle class people that we can trust, the environment is shot to pieces.

So, it seems only reasonable to assume that the world, as we know it, is going to end in 2020.

In which case it seems fairly pointless making any New Years Resolutions.

At least not the usual kind.

I mean I should still probably commit to some kind of personal growth, because if my devotion to bad action movies tells me anything it’s that there will be some kind of life post the apocalypse. It’ll be a kind of dystopic wasteland but life will go on.

And, on the off chance that I survive the forthcoming Armageddon, I’m going to need to be in better shape than I am now.

So in 2020 I’ll be hitting the gym. But not in some vague attempt to improve my fitness and health as might seems sensible for a man of my age. Nor is it some misguided, vanity-driven attempt to recapture my rapidly disappearing youth.

No, I’ll be hitting the gym so that when Judgement Day arrives, I can be the grizzled, cynical, but ultimately kind-hearted hero that the world needs me to be.

But, on the off chance the world doesn’t end, I will at least have improved my health and fitness. And possibly prolonged my rapidly disappearing youth.

And while I’m waiting for the End of Days, I might try and blog a bit more often than I did in 2019.

And possibly cut down on my caffeine intake.

And maybe do a bit of decorating because the old homestead is looking a bit shabby.

And perhaps watch a bit less TV and read a few more books.

But all of that is academic.

Because the end is clearly nigh.

Happy New Year Everyone!

 

 

 

Hoping For A Twixmas Miracle

James Proclaims (4)

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As we’re roughly in the midpoint of that weird period between Christmas and New Year, known to some as Twixmas (and this is not because the only chocolates left in the mostly-eaten tub of Celebrations at this point are the rubbish Twix ones), I thought I’d take some time to reflect on the festive period so far.

It’s not been a vintage year in the Proclaims household. We’ve all been ill since Christmas Eve. My ear-infection appears to be improving thanks to the antibiotics I’m on, but I have subsequently caught Mrs Proclaims’ cold which is quite horrible and seems to have floored both of us. The littlest Proclaims is also still a bit under the weather, although her antibiotics have certainly helped her to bounce back considerably from the tonsillitis that had me taking her to A&E on Christmas morning. Indeed, were it not for the regular snot that she delights in rubbing on my Christmas-themed onesie (a fashion choice I make only at Christmas and one which I carry off with all the dignity you’d expect of an overweight forty year old wearing an oversized baby grow) and an intermittent cough, you’d imagine she was operating at full capacity.

She certainly seems to be wreaking havoc wherever she roams which is normally par for the course. She spared us this destruction on Christmas Eve and the big day itself, but she did cover me and the sofa in vomit. On balance that was probably worse.

Most of the time I go a little feral during the Twixmas period but this year I’ve really let myself go. I had been planning on having a very different sort of Christmas break. I’d been planning on doing lots of swimming, which I have been doing quite a lot since I finished my MA back in April. But an ear infection means you can’t go swimming. So I joined a gym. But I’m currently too ill to do that either.

I can’t drink alcohol at the moment – apparently that would not sit well with my medication.

I suppose that is some mitigation for the lack of exercise.

But there is still a lot of bad food around.

And I’m eating it.

They do say ‘feed a cold’.

But now my cold is currently so well-fed it probably has gout.

And it seems to be enjoying the lifestyle because it doesn’t appear to be inclined to go anywhere anytime soon.

Still, I expect I’ll be better in a few days.

Just in time to make some New Year’s Resolutions.

One of which will to never be ill again.

 

 

The Fifth Annual Christmas Message from James Proclaims

James Proclaims (4)

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Merry Christmas!

Yes it’s the big day once again and everyone everywhere is making merry!

Except for those that aren’t. Which is probably quite a few people. But let’s not trouble our consciences thinking of those less fortunate than ourselves. It’s Christmas for goodness sake! If ever there was a day for reckless self-indulgence then surely today is the day. I’m certain that’s the true meaning of Christmas. Either that or the adverts are lying to me. And that just seems preposterous…

As with most years (with the exception of last year) I’m scheduling this post to go ‘live’ at the same time as the Queen addresses the nation. It’s a friendly little rivalry that our beloved monarch and I share. She’s not aware of it of course but it still counts.

As usual the press have already leaked much of what the Queen will be saying, so you don’t need to watch her anyway. And, I’m not saying my security is better than Buckingham Palace, but no news outlet has released any spoilers for this.

The Queen will, if sources are correct, be lamenting a bad year for the royals. And my heart does bleed for them.

But we’re not having it all our own way chez Proclaims. I’m currently on antibiotics for an ear infection, Mrs Proclaims is nursing a very bad cold and is exhausted having been up for much of the night with our darling daughter. Who is more ill than both of us.

I took her to A&E this morning, where she was seen by a nurse who was dressed as an elf, but who lacked the cheery disposition of an elf. She then saw a doctor who, disappointingly, was dressed as a doctor but who had the cheery disposition of an elf. Fortunately we escaped with some more antibiotics and we don’t have to spend the whole day in hospital, but not the loveliest start to Christmas Day I’ve ever had.

Oh and just to add to the holiday cheer someone broke into my car a couple of days ago and stole my sat nav.

Ho Ho Bloody Ho.

Still it’s not all doom and gloom.

Seeing my daughter’s delight at unwrapping a Peppa Pig stuffed toy this morning was priceless.

And because she’s lacking her usual energy levels, the Christmas tree is still standing.

I’m sure she’ll rectify that once the meds kick in…

Anyway, wherever and whoever you are, I hope you’re having a brilliant Christmas!

T’isn’t The Season… But T’will Be Soon

James Proclaims (4)

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And so here we are, a month from Christmas and soon the traditions of the season will be upon us. Although, as is the case most years, I’ve been honouring one custom since around mid-October. Which is the eating of mince pies. I love a good mince pie, but in all honesty, there is far too much in the way of other festive fare available when we get to Christmas proper. So, I like to get my mince pie consumption started as early as possible.

In a similar bookend, I probably won’t eat much Christmas cake until January, but will then try and eke it out for as long as possible.

As I write this, my almost-16-month-old daughter is tearing around the room wreaking havoc wherever she goes. She’s quite the force majeure. For this reason, I’m not sure there’ll be a Christmas tree in the Proclaims household this year. At least I’m not sure there’ll be a Christmas tree for long…

I have already bought most of the Christmas presents I’m going to buy. I’m not an especially organised person in most respects, but present buying is generally something that I’m pretty good at. Either that or I have an exceptionally polite family when it comes to gift-receiving. But as some of them aren’t too bothered about letting me know my shortcomings in other respects, I’m going to say I’m good at buying presents.

Obviously with it now being ‘Black Friday Week’ I may have jumped the gun, having purchased all my gifts prior to this most traditional and heart-warming of wallet-friendly weeks. I believe that Black Friday proper is yet to come, although apparently some retailers, having just too many deals for one Friday, also incorporated last Friday. As I say, I won’t be joining in the fun, but I will, of course, sit down to enjoy the traditional Black Friday meal when the day does come around. The traditional meal being my own soul.

Anyway, the shopping is mostly done, which is good because December already looks set to be a fairly taxing month.

There is of course the forthcoming general election. Although that probably won’t take up too much time. I will vote, but at this point I’m voting for the least-worst candidate and really, whoever wins, it’s hard to be too optimistic. I’m not even sure who the least-worst option is. I think I know who the worst is though. And sadly, I think that is probably who will win.

December also brings its fair share of family commitments. In and of itself this is not really problematic. I’m not a fan of gatherings in general, but it would seem churlish to apply that sentiment to the people I’m related to, and to be fair they’re a decent bunch. But they all live approximately two hours from me and a two-hour drive is rarely fun. It’s worse still with a lively toddler in tow. She’s only mastered a few words, so we’re not in the territory of the “are we there yet?” chant, that I recall torturing my parents with on oh-so-many a car journey. But she has her ways of making an already challenging experience even more horrendous. Changing her nappy at the services on the M25 is an experience from last December that I’m in no hurry to repeat.

Not that she needs a long car journey to elevate my stress levels. Even as I was writing that last paragraph, she marched up to my pc and attempted to switch it off. I would have lost of all of this delightful prose in one act of infant insurrection were it not for my surprisingly considerate computer checking that I wanted to pursue the unfathomable undertaking of shutting down without saving my work before it carried out my daughter’s directions.

December is always a busy time in work. I’m not really sure why, but there always seem to be deadlines that need to be hit prior to the festive break. I’m not likely to hit any of those deadlines without ‘upping my game’. I’m never keen on upping my game. I prefer to operate a level of ‘doing just enough to get away with it’, but occasionally it pays to demonstrate that I am capable of more. For the sake of my own ego if nothing else.

In the unlikely event that my boss is reading this, I would point out that everything I write on this blog should be taken with a pinch of salt and clearly that last paragraph was written in jest.

In the more likely event that my boss is not reading this, then I can confirm I am a workshy waste of space.

One event in December that I’m really looking forward to is, of course the release of the new Star Wars film. Even if it’s ultimately quite disappointing I will still watch it multiple times. It can’t be worse than The Phantom Menace and I’ve seen that loads of times.

Speaking of films, all going well, December should also bring my, now traditional, blog offering, of The James Proclaims Advent Calendar of Christmas(ish) Films. I’ve already sat through quite a few movies with a vaguely tenuous link to Christmas so, if I can muster up enough time to actually write about them then activity on this blog is likely to go from ‘very little in recent times’ to ‘quite a lot actually’.

But it’ll all be badly written reviews of essentially non-Christmas films that might have a bit of an obscure link to Christmas.

As opposed to badly written posts about nothing much at all.

Once the advent calendar has run it’s course, I am also hoping to write my, even more traditional, Christmas Day message.

And I expect I’ll follow that with my equally traditional Boxing Day post, in which I’ll produce some sort of weak play on words referencing the sport of boxing.

So, if you’re a fan of this blog then there really is a lot to look forward to.

But if you are genuinely a fan of this blog, you may need some kind of help.

Don’t Call It A Comeback

James Proclaims (4)

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It is the 18th November, which quite possibly means that Christmas is nearly upon us. It also means that I haven’t troubled the blogosphere for a good four months. At least I imagine it’s been a good four months if you really don’t like my writing. But then I would hypothesise that you wouldn’t be reading this. And you wouldn’t have noticed my lack of blogging in the last four months. So, whether the last four months were good or not would have had absolutely nothing to do with my latest hiatus from this blog. On the other hand if you do like my cyber compositions then you might have been a little miffed that I haven’t produced anything for a while. Indeed 2019 has been rather sparse in terms of content for this plugged-in periodical.

I should probably begin this post with an ablogogy.

Ablogogy is a term I’ve just coined. It can be defined as follows:

ablogogy

[ uh-blog-uh-jee ]

noun, plural a·blog·o·gies.

An insincere written or spoken expression of one’s regret, remorse, or sorrow for having failed to write anything on one’s blog for a considerable period of time. Ablogogies are issued in the vain hope that anyone gives a crap, but with the knowledge that, in fact, no-one has either noticed or particularly cared that one hasn’t written an anodyne post about cabbages for a while.

 

Now that we’ve got that over with, I can perhaps try and write something of substance.

Although that would be quite a departure from my usual utterings, and I haven’t changed that much in the last few months.

As it is currently November, I’m suffering with my annual state of Novemberitis. Which is absolutely a real condition and not something I’ve just made up.

Many people choose to survive November by writing novels, others grow moustaches in an apparent attempt to raise awareness of something. I have considered, but ultimately abandoned, both of these ideas in the past. Occasionally I try to overcome the melancholies of November by producing more content for this blog, but aside from five posts in January, one in April and two in July I have written nothing in 2019, so producing any content this November would be an upturn in fortunes.

Although if this is the best I can do, then perhaps my extended absence was no great loss.

I expect much has changed in the world since my last attempt to kick-start this increasingly dormant blog into existence.

Although Brexit appears to still be a thing.

And there’s another election on the horizon and they’re always fun.

My own existence has largely been dominated by my increasingly mobile and intrepid daughter.

I am very much enjoying being a father but I’m also tired all of the time. Even as I write this my beloved offspring is tearing around the room, occasionally popping over to my workspace (which takes up a corner in what is apparently now her room, although it was very much my office until she arrived on the scene. I suppose it was always theoretically an office/guestroom but given that Mrs Proclaims and I have always discouraged guests it was pretty much my space. Now it’s very much hers and I am permitted the use of a corner on the basis that there is nowhere else in our tiny abode for my computer to live) to tamper with my keyboard and insert random symbols into my prose. I imagine I will have deleted her efforts by the time I publish this, but I suppose she makes a convenient scapegoat for any typos that may appear.

Anyway, I return to the blogosphere this day in order to proclaim my intention to return to blogging more frequently from now on.

But I’ve made such promises before and utterly failed to live up to them.

And really, whether I blog or not is of no great consequence.

So, this entire post is completely pointless.

Which, in fairness, is pretty much in line with everything else I’ve ever written.