Thank You, Dr Adams.

Making blog posts is becoming difficult these days. No life, you see, so nothing to talk about.

I thought of making a pithy post about how men’s suit jackets are becoming shorter and how desperately un-cool they look, but I don’t wear suits so why should I care? I thought of mentioning my near-mortification when Milly the pigeon spurned my invitation to lunch today, but being thrown over by yet another woman is hardly newsworthy. I could have whinged on again about how depressing it is to be a mini invalid in the left leg department, but who would want to hear it? Or I could have complained about the land agent who is accusing me of having my rent paid into the wrong bank account when the whole fault actually lies with them. But we all know what a shady bunch of ne’er-do-wells land agents are, so that would only have provoked another yawn.

And so I thought I'd fall back on a line I heard in tonight’s episode of House.

The team are scratching their heads as usual, trying to work out why all their diagnoses keep on falling by the wayside because the poor old patient is now having a seizure, a coronary, hallucinations, projectile vomiting, or a gushing of blood from every orifice. One of the team clutches at straws by mentioning that the patient’s ex-girlfriend was a yoga instructor, at which point Adams proves that she is not only the hottest property on the block but also has the best sense of humour:

‘Maybe his chakras got strained.’

Even in my condition I managed half a smile.