Reports of my death would have been greatly exaggerated if there had been any.
Sorry about the lack of shed stuff.
It's still stands and doesn't leak.
I broke another finger.
My head aches, not presumably related to a finger snapping incident.
My cricket team hasn't won any games this year.
I have accidentally usurped the captain to regain my rightful place as The Big Cheese.
My son is growing at an alarming rate.
My daughter is a legal adult, but struggles daily with the real implications therein.
I have been a legal adult for 28 years and 2 weeks and I still struggle with the legal, moral and other general implications therein.
I still wish for the extermination of all advertising executives.
I have completed Meta's questionnaire, a life achievement akin to climbing Everest or discovering time travel.
I still have a job.
I still love the B.F.G.
It's still fuckin' rainin' here!
Solstice came and went and I hardly noticed it.
I haven't had an alcoholic drink for 10 days.
Elderflower champagne doesn't count because it's far too weak.
If I ruled the World, every day would be the first day of last week.
I'm so very glad I'm not called Percival.
How much wood can a woodchuck chuck?
I should write to my Australian mate.
My neck hurts.
Cheese can possibly save the world from annihilation.
I'm just trying to find the bridge.
Moffs enjoy the environs surrounding my bathroom light, even they probably know it isn't good for them.
Bob Dylan can't sing.
Is this the eighth wonder of the world?