That’s what my Matt says. And I may add time also flies when you’re sleeping.
I arrived sick, having just developed a cold, and I was bone tired from weeks and weeks of worrying and work. I swam only twice, both times on Saturday. It was lovely; the water was 86 degrees F. But it was all I could manage. Being OLD is a great excuse. I was pampered and I was grateful for it.
So still no blog. But I have the folder and I will toss off a list of possible blogs, just things that appealed to me and triggered some sort of response. Oh, dear, they are sooo INTERESTING. I’ve been reading bits and pieces of them to my hostess (my daughter Kate) and we discuss them and go off into—onto?—tangents, and I still haven’t written a blog or a list of blogs about any of them.
Hers’a a brief catalyst for you to try on for size:
“When does a diary become a franchise?” Or a blog?
Here’s a comment from Alan Rusbridger, who happens to be the editor of The Guardian: “…something [is] going on in journalism at the moment, which is that anybody can blog, anybody can tweet, anybody can write and publish.”