Excuses, excuses, or, Citizen Bear and Woolly Revolution

Poor little blog. I have been neglecting you. I have been busy - I might have looked like I was just lying there, staring at the ceiling but I was actually taking part in an experiment to see if it really is possible to die of ennui.

Turns out to be harder than it looks.

Just too easily distracted. There is the clickety click of Madame's knitting needles. She says she's being inspired to have another go at the knitting thing by sites like anti-craft - but I suspect something even more sinister. hmmmmmmmm. The revolution will be warm and woolly. She's just learned how to do stripes so if anyone needs a stripy cover for their guillotine then she's your woman.

See. Easily distracted. I was going to write all about bear-type stuff and now I don't have time to tell you all about Happy Bear's secret path to happiness or recommend Polar Bears Against Palin. And no time for the story of how I fought off a plague of evil Makka Pakkas who wanted to take over the world.

Next time ...

furtively frightened of Tom Waits

She finally lured me out with a mixture of threats and promises. I've been cowering under the bed since Friday evening. I'm not proud. It was frightening. And there was no warning. And I'm just a small creature. Easily startled apparently.

And no sympathy of course. I'm not saying that Tom Waits is a bad person. He's cool. I'm cool with him. It's just that the sound of him unexpectedly torturing "Heigh Ho, Heigh Ho. It's off to work we go" on Radio 4 did make me burst into tears and convince me that an army of rabid weasels was heading this way to scoop my insides out with tea spoons and use my head as a football.

She says I'm being daft. But, hah! What about that Kate Bush song - at this point I should probably check the title but I'm still too traumatised and you know the one I mean - one about sonic bombs, sounds that can kill. I was definately the victim of an audio maiming on Friday evening.

Thankfully a follow-up mugging (Pete Docherty sings "Chim Chimney") was only alluded to. I was in my bunker under the bed, prodding anything that came near with a cake fork, and blocking my ears with dust bunnies.

So lots of catching up to do. Heigh ho, heigh ho ...