BLIMEY

It's been almost two months since I last blogged! Dear Heavens to Murgatroyd! I am stunned!

Okay, enough.

It's gone two in the morning and I feel tired but for some reason can't sleep. The main reason I have neglected my little bloggo of late is that I've been insanely busy with the flat. Well, all right, that's one of the two main reasons, if I'm honest. The second we'll leave till later.

But yes...the flat! It is shaping up rather nicely at last, and I have been promising photos on the blog practically since I moved in. I had intended to post pictures of the empty rooms before I actually moved in but unfortunately moved in before I had a chance to take any pictures and there was no way on God's formerly green Earth that I was publishing photographs of my new home in it's war-zone-like state on a public forum, even if only three people (now four, by the way, though he hasn't become an official follower as yet) look at it.

I could divide the reasons for my blog-tardiness into sub-reasons, probably. The dyspraxia (I forget how many of you are aware of this particular bane of mine) contributes significantly to my taking forever to get on with anything, for a start. Then there's my darling family who, despite being dear to me, are very far from the full shilling (let he who is without sin cast the first stone, yes, but if he is also casting them at himself, he should fire away, I reckon - you all know I'm bonkers). There has also been the various tasks involved with setting up a home. I apologise to you all for going into this because you all know what this involves but I had to mention it as I didn't and am still reeling from shock. I didn't know it was possible to collect so much bloody paper in such a short space of time. My kitchen worktop looks like the lost items department at Royal Mail.

Also - I can put it off no longer - a good deal of the blame for my absence on this esteemed site I have created, must be apportioned to one tall, dark, handsome stranger who spoke to me in Morrisons the day before New Year's Eve and has monopolised my free time ever since.

Suffice to say, it is going very well with Paul. I have wanted to mention him on the bloggo for some time but since I rushed to mention the toe-rag I formerly called 'boyfriend' on here, I wanted to save Paul for some very special blog. As it is, I've had a wonderful day on the whole and reckon that is special enough. And he is special enough to warrant mention without excuse anyway, it turns out. And now I'm gushing like an Oscar winner.

I've completely forgotten what I was going to say when I started this post but I am at last starting to feel like sleep might well be a possibility so I will close by saying (this time while in a position to deliver) that photos of the flat WILL follow shortly. Oh, and Paul is the fourth blog reader I mentioned earlier, by the way.

HAPPY NEW YEAR: It had to happen some time

Well, I've done my first really stupid thing of the new year. It was only a matter of time, let's face it. Today I was feeling slightly sorry for myself. I had spent the night on my Mum's couch because of a suspected gas leak at my flat (again), and as a result was suffering from a very sore back and shoulders. I wanted to get some work done on my laptop in the Edwin Waugh, which serves great coffee and offers free wifi to laptop-toting customers but until tomorrow I had only five pounds, and that was in the bank. The post office was shut when I got there hoping to draw out my money, 'Due to unforseen extreme weather conditions.' Why on earth could the post-office staff not do their jobs in the warm when customers and outbound postal staff were perfectly capable of braving the snow?

I digress.

So, I'd carried my laptop bag (which is bloody heavy, let me tell you) all the way into town for nothing, fallen on my backside in the snow, and was generally very fed up. I decided to treat myself to a cheering-up coffee and meal in Morrisons cafe instead (they DO accept card payments, unlike the Edwin Waugh).

This was about 3.30pm so imagine my total shock, upon finishing my omelette, mushrooms and beans, to find a text message on my phone that had apparently arrived at ten past eight! Had I really been in the cafe for almost five hours?! I stared at the phone for a good five minutes, totally puzzled before it dawned on me: '2010' was the year the text message was sent, not the time. And Morrisons would have shut at 8pm, anyway. Happy 2010!