End of times

Yes it's feeling backendish, rather like my blipping. Late to bed last night and awoke this morning with what felt like a hangover, don't think I had a drink yesterday beyond the endless cups of tea. I'm spending too much time looking at a screen.

A good friend has asked me to join him delivering a yacht to Malta. I can do part of it from Gibralter after the Monaco yacht show which is coming up fast. It would be nice to sail again, wish I hadn't given my sea boots and a lot of other kit to son George now. I'm supposed to fit in a trip to Falmouth in between but going to Cornwall by train takes longer than crossing the Atlantic. Logistics problems all of a sudden. In Monaco I have about a trillion invitations to lunch (only a slight exaggeration). Why? Why is there this belief that lunch = favourable press coverage? It doesn't.

I suppose if I am going to sail I should get down to the gym and do something about all that slack. Oh, the bother of it all. The blip reminds me of something: What's that song? I never knew it was a Burt Bacharach number. Well!

PS. I didn't say I was leaving, just that I wouldn't blip every day, and I won't, any day now. I hope I haven't built up a lack of expectation. This is one of our heleniums.

PPS. Great that blipcentral brought this to our attention on Facebook today. It had scored just five stars when I visited this morning. A travesty, particularly when you see that Ross is a long term blipper (blipping daily even before Blipfoto was born!).

PPPS. Imagine if we were blipping then. That's all I have to say today.