Oh dear! I fell asleep in front of the TV tonight, and woke up after midnight. This is becoming a bit of a habit. Hopefully I will get things back to normal soon.

I got side-tracked last night and forgot to post. I couldn’t really think of anything to post and managed to fil my time with reading blogs instead of writing. Eventually I realised it was after midnight. Same applies tonight. I have filled my time with things and am finding it difficult to find anything to write about.

I spent twenty minutes thinking and rewriting before going to watch The Coroner on cach-up. That lasted from 9.00 to 10.00, at which point I seem to have fallen asleep. I’m not feeling particularly funny tonight, or historical or poetic, so that’s all out. I’m not even enthusiastic enough for a decent rant, even though a few things came close to setting me off during the day. I put it down to the weather, and the fact that the year is near enough over. Today is the longest day and as far as I’m concerned that means it’s all downhill from here. All I can think is “Dead and never called me Mother!”

It does seem like the poor little orphaned year has died without having a chance to come to life. No lockdown of any consequence, and no freedom or enthusiasm either. It’s just a nothing sort of year.

I suppose that after trying 63 different years, it was inevitable that I would end up with one that wasn’t particularly thrilling. Even then, if I’ve wanted to feel a frisson of danger all I needed to do was select a supermarket and walk close to somebody who wasn’t wearing a mask. Imagine that, a world where going out to buy bread can be a potentially fatal experience.

Anyway, I will post now, so at least I won’t miss blogging on Tuesday.