I'm still here
A month of no blogging followed by a month without a computer (horrible, horrible) broke my blogging habit. Actually, it was more of an occasional autobiographical vomit than a habit. Anyway, it broke. It broke baaad. In the meantime I enjoyed plenty of chocolate, got hoips of hugs and kisses from my small ones, lazed around the house drinking champagne at 10 am, had long lunches in my nighty, a brief liaison with Daniel Craig, listened to lots of Coldplay and rejoiced at the change of government in NZ. The first two things were true. The middle part was delicious fantasy. The last two things are too scary to contemplate.
Speaking of scary, we went to a Billy Joel concert a few weeks back (OK, like people under 25 will think that is sooo uncool, but the tickets were free, awesomely close to the front, and he still got great pipes. Yes, we had to endure "We didn't start the fire" and "River of Dreams", but the rest was pretty good), anyway, what the @*$# was I saying? Oh, that's right, Grant went for a pit stop halfway through and saw NZ's shortest broadcaster staggering out of the women's toilet block. We had seen him a few weeks earlier hosting the charity dinner where Bob Geldof was guest speaker. He seemed to get a bit slurry as the night progressed and at question time he referred to St Bob as "Bob Dylan". It reminded me of the time he hosted a special in 2003ish to mark 30 years of Split Enz (I think that was it). He was manic and verbose. OK, that is not particularly unusual for him, but it all seemed a bit too too.
Oh dear, my first post in ages, and all I can do is harp on like a writer for some lame Sunday gossip column.
Oh double dear. The family is spiralling into manic "we need dinner" crazy hour. S'pose I should cook something, or reheat something, or something. Will blog again soon and it will be articulate, and witty and, oh feck it, it will probably just be more drivel, but please do check in again.
Luf and kisses
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