...I have a good one for not blogging as much as I once did. But I suspect it is merely an excuse and I am merely n unmotivated grumpy git (that said, apparently I was given credit for not being anywhere near as grumpy as I usually am over Christmas. So there.)
In one week I will be back in London, soaking up the...hold on...five degrees and raining weather (according to the BBC), leaving behind for a fortnight the...hold on...mid to high twenties with a chance of a shower Sydney weather (according to the Bureau of Meteorology.) The reason for the trip is my father's health. He has been diagnosed with stomach cancer and because his health is a bit all-over-the-shop at the best of times it is almost certainly inoperable and a bookie would not offer good odds on him making it much past the middle of the year. So Sal and I are heading back to spend some quality time with him before he starts to slide, as he inevitably will, at which time I will go back again.
So, I offer the Big C as an excuse for my fragmented blogging. Maybe if I looked back t the start of my blog slide I'd spot the approximate date I was told. I'll also blame my general snappiness, lethargy and any other mood swings upon it. Because I can. I'll be buggered when he's dead; I'll need to find another excuse. And with that, I think it's time for a catch up.
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