I’ve been feeling a bit bored today. I have plenty to do though. In fact, too much to do which is why I probably can’t settle down to do anything in particular. The laundry, the ironing and the general  cleaning is screaming out at me as well as the possibility of a search and rescue mission for some old underpants in Master Jacob’s room which smells distinctly of vinegar. Curious. There’s also my book to continue which is now over 50,000 words. However, I just can’t settle to anything at all.  Nope. No can do. To use an English expression: I kinda have ants in my pants but due to boredom not excitement. Anyway, boredom usually leads in my case to depression. Not bi-polar which is for the celebs but the kind of depression that lead to chocolate digestives and strong cups of coffee laced with whiskey. Maybe even a doughnut or two. Or if I’m feeling really suicidal – filing my nails and actually

I just rang the school transport service for a replacement bus pass for Master Jacob. Brrring Brrring, Brrring, Brrring Receptionist: Hello, School Transport Service Mrs T: Good morning, I need a replacement school bus pass for my son. Receptionist: Is he of school age? Mrs T (in her head) No, he’s a F***** pensioner. Mrs T (out loud) Yes. I now know why I can’t get a job – I am too clever.

As occasionally happens I must interrupt the inactivity on this blog to report ground breaking news; I have just used a magnifying glass to read the baking instructions on a packet of bread mix. Shit.

We Brits are always moaning about our weather. We can make a moan about the weather last an entire afternoon. Sometimes we can make it last all winter, especially if there’s more than one inch of snow. Yes, if there’s more than one inch of snow the entire country grinds to a halt, especially the transport system which can’t even cope if a leaf blows on the track. Believe me, Readers, if you’re ever suffering from depression in the UK you do not want to go and visit your relatives using public transport because it will finish you off and you’ll be underneath the wheels of  a high speed train before you know it. Have you ever stood around at a British train station and noticed that everyone looks like their mother’s died, they lost out on a pay rise and they just discovered they’ve got alopecia? Well if you have – it’s because the network

Tomorrow I am giving a second blogging workshop at Luton Central Library on behalf of The View From Here. As I am actually being employed to do this I feel I should not be making jokes at my own expense or about my competency hence this will be a semi-serious post. After nearly five years blogging I hope I’ve leant a thing or two to impart to beginners. I now know, for example, that “spam” isn’t just processed pork, “tags” aren’t just the labels which I leave sticking out of the back of my cardigan and “cyber sex” isn’t just something robots get up to. So, I’ve been blogging since December 2007 which is, frankly, amazing. I only wish I could apply the same stamina to the two hundred and sixty three diets I’ve been on in the same time. Unfortunately though, I’m still rivalling Jennifer Lopez for the biggest backside in the Western Hemisphere.

Today has been a sad day. It’s the fourth anniversary of my mother’s sudden death and instead of my usual planned distractions I found myself nursing one of Master Ben’s chickens who had got herself into trouble in the garden. Unfortunately, the shock and exhaustion must have been too great and despite my ministrations as the day turned to night Bette Davis slipped away. It kind of felt like history repeating itself. Only with a chicken. They say time is a great healer but maybe not just yet. Bette Davis on the left, Miss Muffet on the right. She was a beauty.