It's been nearly a month since I've actually written about what I've been up to. I've written posts, sure, but not actually talked about what I'm up to.
So Christmas has been and gone, and so has New Year, and I think I've passed the deadline to begin talking about those (good, but busy, if you're wondering). So here I am, well into the bosom of New Year. I don't know why I decided to use the word bosom, but I did, so deal with it. Bosom. How salacious, one might say. But it's nice to say that despite the New Year, the New Decade even (or is it?), some things don't change. I still write a load of rubbish. Mostly, because I've nothing remotely interesting to write about. Well, I have, but the less said about that the better.
So there you have it, around one hundred and fifty words of nothing. Twoddle. Meaningless utterings. Sometimes I think reading this blog is trying to squint at a deeply dark landscape, attempting to make out something that isn't there. But I am alive, so that must be good.
It's my birthday soon(ish). And I've found something I like the look of (hint, hint). It's a book, of course. It an Austen, with a twist. The twist is...zombies.
Book I'm reading: To Kill A Mocking Bird
Book number: 4
Pages into it: Page 1 of 309
Bookmark: Train ticket (Single, Southampton to Ashurst New Forest, £3.40)