Who wants to know that I’m £220 poorer as a result of having to replace the thirteenth item of equipment in the past three years?
Who wants to know that I got a bit interested in Aethelflaed, Lady of the Mercians, because some of my ancestors probably fought the Danes under her command in the 10th century?
Who wants to know that I got a rare wave (and smile, I think) from HT54 today while I was checking that the recycling bins at the pub really have gone?
Who wants to know that I regard the removal of our recycling bins as another example of favouring the cult of the personal over the value of the communal?
Who wants to know that I’m fast wearing out my relatively new wellies because the Shire is such a wet and muddy place this winter?
And who wants to know that I’m spending more time at the moment sitting by a warm coal fire re-reading the ghost stories of MR James than I am sitting in a lukewarm office writing this pesky blog?
See? Nothing to write about. Maybe later.