Blogging with the Speed of Light

I remember, as some of you no doubt do too, the days when a PC was a box with a slit in it and a monitor.

Those where the days of 700 odd megabytes of memory and no hard drive.

Days of constant disk swapping and slow processing which, never the less, made us proud because, back then, we were pioneers; we belonged to the few who ventured into new and promising future.

Now, having ditched the antiquated device which once masqueraded as my laptop, I have find myself once again at the cutting edge ... well, almost ... of home computing technology.

Please say hello to my new 2.7 Gigahertz Samsung!

Yes, yes.

I know you can't actually see it, but it is indeed there ... or here ... and performing like a dream.

47 second boot and ... hahahahahahahahaha! Sorry! I get excited! ... and I can access all the sites and do all the things that my old (deceased) laptop would not allow.

Happy?

Damned right I am!

So ... let's play catch, shall we?

The garage wall and roof:

Negotiations are underway for it's repair. It's going to be far more expensive that we first thought, but at least we are nearer to the job actually being done.
As for the wall ... we will wait for about six months to allow it to dry thoroughly before having it braced with steel rods.

The house roof:

I haven't mentioned this one yet, but we are getting that done too. Moss removed, guttering cleaned and firmly secured.

My car:

Well I have a new one, as I have already mentioned, but it is now mine ... ALL MINE!!!

The fence:

It's an on-going thing, I'm afraid. I have bought the remaining panels in order to complete the job, but the wind has saved me the trouble of removing the older panels by spreading them evenly (and in small pieces) throughout the neighbourhood.

Oh, there is so much more to tell and, no doubt one day I shall get around to reporting it all in detail.

But for now, I intend to try and find out how Windows 8 can piss me off even further.

It may (if reports from others are to be believed) be very good operating system but for an old DOS man like myself, it's going to be hard work.

Catch you later!

The Less Written, the More Said

I began this blog as a means of keeping a record of daily events.

But it never actually worked out that way.

I ended up writing almost anything that came to mind ... mostly memories, observations and stories about dogs.

I used to write every day, or at least every other day, until one day words were spoken...

You and that damned laptop!

Only a few words, but very much like a dagger in the heart.

In the beginning my writing took place in the mornings, usually between 6 and 9 am until my work pattern changed and I began to write after everyone had gone to bed, usually after 11 pm.

Sometime thereafter my work routine changed yet again and I found that time for writing was reduced (usually) to between the hours of 4 and 6 pm.

Then came those words!

To be fair, I did always get so wrapped up in writing that I nearly always over-ran the time I allocated myself and, as the household's one and only cook, the rest of the family were often left close to starvation. Being so wrapped up in writing, I was oblivious to the rumbling of empty stomachs.

Those words ... let me remind you of them - You and that damned laptop! ... had a meaning far greater than just the sum, as it were, of the words.

They said subliminally "You and that blog of yours are a pain in the backside and we never speak any more because you are always writing or reading. It's taking up all your spare time and I'm getting sick of it and I want to spend more time in your company rather than with a zombie-fied typist"

Of course, subliminal as those words were, I imagined them liberally punctuated with some very colourful expletives.

Anyway, once again I must cut a long story short ... in an effort (might I say a supreme effort) to reintegrate myself into the family, I have reduced my literary output to once or twice a week.

I think 'She who must be obeyed' bought it!

I'm definitely back in favour with regards to certain aspects of married life!!!

Celeb's on a Bus

Over the past week or so I have taken several buses to various places.

I have experienced foul-mouthed tirades, suffered smells that not even a dog could create and found things that one should never find on a means of public transport (to-wit, one used condom).

My fascination with bus travel began after I read some articles on Peggy's blog.

I discovered that people watching on a bus can produce an almost unlimited supply of blog material which I now endeavour to utilise at every available opportunity.

So let us start from the beginning.  Try and keep up, because I don't have long. You ready?

Let's go!

Firstly, there was the tirade I spoke of.

It occurred only moments after Andy Griffith (Matlock) boarded the bus.

Now, when I say 'Andy Griffith boarded the bus', you do realise that I mean a look-alike, don't you?

I do not see dead people!

Anyway, he got on and the first thing he did was to open a window, before taking a seat next to Roy Orbison (ditto the look-alike bit).  It was a cold day and the rush of cold air through the bus caused a bit of a stir.

It took a little over a minute before the recumbent figure in pink jerked awake, stomped down the bus and slammed the window shut.

The figure in pink was female.  Her lower lip was pierced and ringed. Her hair dark and matted and seemed to be partially dread-locked.

She mumbled.

"Mmnff bukkin mmmmnff window! Bastard!"

Andy, being Andy, got up and opened it again.

From the lady (and I use the term loosely) in pink came "Ya fuggin ar'so! Fink ya fuggin own da fuggin bus, ya twad! Jeez! Mmnnfff nmmmft pffft, unt!"

The mumbling, interspersed with a liberal sprinkling of colourful language, continued until the next stop, whereupon the driver got out of his seat and approached the lady (still very,very loose) in pink.

He warned her that he wouldn't tolerate her abusing the other passengers and she should behave herself,at which point Andy Griffith piped up "Kick the {insert word sound like Duck}ing {insert word sounds like Hunt} off the (Duck word again) bus!"

I should point out at this point that Roy Orbison sat quietly and took no part in the exchange.

To cut a long story short, Andy and the lady (loose, remember) in pink were ejected and we proceeded on our journey.

Sadly no other celebrity look-alike's boarded the bus, but I do believe we drove past the Fish & Chip shop where Elvis works!

As for the smells and mislaid item's ... let's just say they were memorable for all the wrong reasons!


R.I.P.And and Roy!

Declaration

I guess in the world of blogging that I am a bit of a 'lightweight' really.

I blog when I can, not when I want, so I'm there are days when nothing appears here at all.

I have no specific format or routine that I adhere to and I have no regular 'topics' or 'themes'. In fact ... and I have said this before ... I make it all up as I go along.

But there are so many bloggers out there (that I both admire and envy at the same time) that I always make time for.

I admire their ability to churn out amazing articles day after day, but envy them for having the time to do so.  I don't envy them their skill at juggling words ... I can do that (Hehehe! At times I can be pretty damned good) ...  but I envy the minds that think up and produce new articles faster than I can eat a packet of chocolate Hobnobs ... and believe me, I can eat choccy Hobnobs pretty damned fast!

So, if you are one of the 'prolific' dozen or so that read on a regular basis, consider your backs well and truly slapped and yourselves congratulated for a job well done. 

Although I have never met any of you, and probably never will, I consider you all to be 'my friends' and, from this day on, I expect to be added to your Christmas Card and Birthday lists and look forward to receiving loads of present and cards.

P.S. It is a tradition in this country that when someone declares you to be a friend that you send him, or her, $50 in the mail.

A Reminder Of Blog Rules

(one of my earliest posts: When you can't stay on the internet for more than a few minutes, copy & paste is a God send!)


Whilst typing my little journal entries I endeavour, having taken on board recommendations of a colleague, to maintain a simplistic form of sentencing, thus avoiding overly long statements riddled with intricate and complex, mind melting dribble which mere mortals would struggle to comprehend.

Hippopotomonstrosesquipedalianism is also something I will avoid and, where possible, diminutive alternatives to some words will be employed.

Also, when generalizing, I will refrain from further generalisation of the generalized thread as, generally speaking, things generally get complicated.

Furthermore, I promise to proof read all my articles so as not to omit or leave any sentence unfini

And if I have been guilty of the occasional use of one word sentences, then I promise these will also disappear.  


Forever! 


Always!

Sadly, It's A Re-Post!

Once again I find myself inundated with work and too tired after hard day's work to spend any time behind the keyboard.  I will be back a.s.a.p., but in the meanwhile, here is a re-post which somehow explains just how I feel after a hard day's bottom-wiping.

Failure to Fire

I consider myself to be a blogger with a degree of style,  if not always good taste.


I also like to think of myself as being capable of some pretty slick and smooth writing that, whilst sometimes bending the rules of grammar to breaking point, delivers some worthwhile entertainment. 


It does not come easy to me however.  I have to trawl though area's of my mind that I very sensibly vacated many years ago in order to obtain some of the material that ends up as a blog article.  I dodge, as neatly as possible, the somewhat darker memories and attempt to document only the lighter side of what it is like to be me!


Others can sit themselves in front of their laptops/PCs and effortlessly fire-up their neurons in such a way as to deliver sophisticated and, in most cases, humorous anecdotes directly onto their blogs without so much as a second thought.


I,  on the other hand, have to tweak and re-tweak before I consider an article ready for posting.  Some, after a considerable 'construction' phase, never see the light of day. 


Today is another one of those days where, although there are a number of things I would like to tell the world about, my neurons failed to 'burn' and the 'construction' idea's that I had for my article, have vanished in their entirety.


The one thought that remains, but which I hadn't planned to write about is ...

• Minnesota comes from a Sioux Indian word meaning "sky-tinted water", or "water that reflects the sky."

It has nothing whatsoever to do with a very small, fizzy drink!


I knew that!

Welcome Slovenia!

I'm afraid that I don't speak, and certainly can't write, your language, but nevertheless, I would like to thank you for stopping by.

I am accustomed to the occasional visit from eastern Europe but never before have I had so many hits in such a short period of time. It makes my heart (and head) swell with pride to know that so many of you (apparently) appreciate my blog. At least I hope you do.

There were over 50 hits on Those Who Fell between the hours of 5.50am and 6.00am, which is quite amazing really (It has been read over 2000 times since I posted it November 2010) as I am not the most prolific of bloggers.

According to an English-Slovenian translator that I found on-line 'Thank you' in Slovenian is, believe it or not, Thank you!

So....

Thank you (that's the Slovenian one, not the English one) to everyone who popped in to read my blog.

Another American Encounter

There is no doubt in my mind that blogging is addictive!

If your brain isn't buzzing with ideas that may, or may not, make a decent article to share with your public, then you are constantly wondering 'how did that last post do'?

I blog in rather an irregular fashion. People never know what I'm going to post next.  I have no system or pattern to my posts.

I have no running themes on any particular day and I don't do any of that rather boring plugging of products or publication that some others seem to do.  If I ever hit the big time then, maybe, I'll change my opinion on that, but it's certainly not an issue which takes up more than a few milliseconds of thought at the moment.

I like to try and raise a chuckle or two and, if I'm lucky, get a response that isn't just another nut or bot filling my comments with obscenities or junk.

How am I doing?  (Michelle need not respond to that one)

Anyway, today I was thinking that I'd have another crack at the yanks!


Yeah, you lot!  Here we go...

It was summer and I was still in the army.

We were near a small German town of Butzbach and we were involved in a little spot of military training.
I can recall that on this particular day we were due to go off on a long march, with full kit and weapons, to a location where we would 'assault' an American held position.  I was not looking forward to it, so when the boss asked for a volunteer to assist our American cousins with a little 'families carnival' in the local American barracks, I jumped at it!

"Get yourself smartened up" I was told (we were in combat clothing most of the time, but we'd brought smart stuff just for visiting the yanks).

So there I was ... highly polished boot, clean and pressed parade dress and a smart looking side-cap ... when an American vehicle turned up at our camp site.

It was one of those big beefy pick-up trucks and as I climbed in, I asked the driver "Any idea what they want me to do?"

"Can't help ya there ol' buddy.  Only bin tol' t'get yer scrawny ass there in one piece".  He had a smirk on his face which made me nervous.

His driving style didn't do much to convince me of the truth of his previous statement either!

But we got there and, as we drove though the camp gates, there was the usual silly looking snappy hand signals from the guards that are meant to let you know you can proceed.

"Stoopid asshole!" mumbled my driver, who obviously knew the guy at the gate.

After a few moments we came to what looked like a baseball field covered in tents and stall of varying sizes.
"This is you!" he said as he pulled up.

I got out and without any sort of explanation from my driver, he drove off.

I stood there for a moment and as I was wondering what I should be doing and where I should go, I heard a voice from behind me saying "You the poor bastard they sent, huh?"

I turned and saw coming towards me two yanks dressed in fatigues.

"I'm Cap'n Hall.  This is Sargeant Major Brown".

I saluted and introduced myself.

"They tell ya what ya'll be doin'?" asked the Sargeant Major.

"No sir!" I said. "They only said you needed some help".

They looked at each other and ... yes ... there was that smirk!  Just like the one on the chops of the guy that drove me there.

They told me that would be helping them of on of their stalls ... but that didn't make me feel any more confident or make me think that my immediate future was not going to pleasant!

After a quick guided tour of the stalls, booths and tents, people started to turn up.

"Time to get started, I reckon" said Captain Hall,and he ushered me to the one 'attraction' that had been covered by a huge tarpaulin.  "This is where you'll be doin' your thing!" he said.
I watched as several guys started to remove the tarpaulin.  I caught a glimpse of the sign ... "Dunk the ...".

Then there was a water tank with a seat above it and a small circular target.  Then the tarp fell away.

The sign read ...

Dunk The Limey!  

"You're taking the piss!" I hissed, ignoring the rank of the guy I was talking to. "I'm in parade uniform!  Smart!
And all you want to do is get me piss-wet through!"

Well, despite my reservations and anger at being suckered, I did have a good day!

And, although baseball is an American national sport, did find out that very few of the 'throwers' were natural baseball players!  I was hit (and a baseball is damned hard) more often than the target.

Four hours I was there and I was soaked again and again and again!

But it was all for charity and on our stall we managed to raise over $400 ... and a good few bruises.

I was well looked after by everyone there.  I was well fed and plied with beer throughout the afternoon and when it came time to call it a day, my soaking uniform, which they kindly replaced with a full set of US fatigues and boots, was taken away to be dry-cleaned.

Before I left that evening, they were all back!  Uniform cleaned, pressed and neatly folded and my boots dry and, once again, highly polished.

It was a great day and I must admit, my hosts were more than generous and really did look after me.

I Used To Be Talented? Did I?

I sat and read blog's (properly) for the first time in weeks yesterday.

I thought reading the writings of others would inspire me to write something of my own ... it didn't!

Now please don't go away thinking that I thought that what I'd read was drivel.  That's not it at all.
In fact most of what I read was as funny or informative, as I'd expected it to be.  It's just that yesterday my mind was not firing on all cylinders (friends would argue it never did).  I had trouble stringing sentences together in conversation, so writing anything of interest for my blog was just not going to happen.

Yes folk, it is exceptionally arid around the proximity of my brain these days.

So I put my mind to something simpler ... I designed an adjustable fly screen system which can be inserted into any open window or door and I even knocked up a prototype ... but I digress...

In my other blog (Four Paws Animal Rescue) I don't have to think too hard. The stories that appear there happen and I just pick up the thread (and more often than not, the text) from whoever it happened to.
After that, it's a simple case of presentation, publishing twittering and facebook-ing.

It basically runs on the 'steam' of others and all I do is make it look nice.

Yesterday, as I read blog's and looked at the comments made, I yearned for the days when I was capable of  kicking out witticism after witticism (some may disagree), stir in a few vaguely but badly disguised insults (thank you for the threatening emails), and generally make a nuisance of myself (as my mother always said I did). 

But I am in the doldrums ... stationary in a sea of sea-y stuff  ... and I can't think of a blasted thing to write about.

This?

This isn't writing!

It's moaning!

I am bemoaning my own (temporary I hope) lack of imagination and talent and lamenting the departure of my 'stay-up-at-all-hours' blogging drive.

Overworked, under paid and now robbed of that small amount of creative ability which once entertained people in their thousands ... OK, in their tens ... by an employer that thinks 'private lives' are only for the privileged few.

I don't know what will become of me, having fallen so low, but just in case I'm finding out the locations of all the soup-kitchens and free park benches in Cardiff, stocking up on anti-depressants and I've started a potato vodka still in the garage.

Let's hope it's enough.

Yours sinking fast

The Daddy of The Sym

 

Hit Me!

I get my highest number of hits on days that I don't post an article!

Today I ain't postin' nuffink just to see if'n anyone comes

a callin'!

Are you folks tryin' to tell me somethin'?

Apology And Basic Rules

I have some new followers to whom I owe an apology.

I apologise most sincerely for not welcoming you 'on board' at the appropriate time.

As I hope you will appreciate, I have had and extremely busy week, what with work and my 'research' into toiletry history of the U.S.A. as depicted by the movie and TV wizards of Hollywood.

I am most grateful that you have chosen to follow my scribblings and can assure you that I will do everything in my power to make you feel at home and keep you entertained.

Basic House Rules

• Gentlemen are reminded the the toilet seat should be lowered (for the ladies) after the expulsion of 'used' beer.
• Ladies are reminded that the toilet seat should be raised (for the gentlemen) after the expulsion of 'used' girlie beverages (what's good for the goose ... ).
• Personal property, including you sense of humour, cannot be replaced if damaged and no liability will be accepted by the author and owner of this blog.
• Any comment you would care to make, both positive and negative, would be gratefully received and could only serve to benefit this blog.
• The consumption of junk food and alcohol on this site is strictly encouraged, however ...
• the fridge (eat your heart out Mad Lady!) will be padlocked and the chocolate cake well hidden.
• In case of emergency, exit via the tiny little X at the top right-hand corner of your browser.
• And 'NO!', you cannot rummage through my drawers during your stay.

Thank you for 'reading' Symdaddy Blog-ways!  I hope you will 'read' with me again soon.

Ambitious Author Seeks Plot

I once harboured thoughts about writing a book.

Don't laugh, I mean it!

As a younger man (I'm not really as old as you might think I am), I sat down many times in front of my PC with only one goal ... to write a book!

Not just any book!

It was meant to be a great book that would sell millions of copies and one day appear as a Hollywood blockbuster or a mini-series on TV.

I still have aspirations in that direction but, unfortunately, I am now of an age whereby I recognise my limitations and I have now come to terms with the fact that my ambitions far outweigh my talents.

Oh, yes!  I can rattle off a few lines now and again, sometimes even managing to inject a modicum of humour into them, for my blog ... but a real book?

I know my boundaries!  I've crashed into them often enough.

I suppose we (bloggers) are all, in some way, frustrated, wannabe authors ...  maybe that is why we blog!  Maybe we are, in a sense, all living out our dreams on a small scale by being 'after work' bloggers!

Who knows?

I believe that I mentioned this once before ... correct me if I'm wrong ... but there is certain thrill to having people read your words; laughing at your humour, crying at your pain, sharing your disgust or sympathising with your woes.

Even if you start writing your blog, as I did, for yourself as a form of expression or release, you still get that tingle when someone has left a comment about your article, when your visitor counter starts to go higher and higher and when the number of hits your blog has received reaching for the heavens.

That is how blog-junkies are born!

Oh!  I think I've just admitted to an addiction!

Another one!

Did I ever mention that I lurrrrrrrv chocolate?

Anyway, I wouldn't like to leave you feeling deprived of a good giggle, so ......


Question: What's the difference between a golf ball and a G spot?

Answer: Men will actually spend time looking for a golf ball.

The Fault Lies With Them ... Not Me, Jesus Or Pinocchio!

D'ya know what?

I spend more time reading the blogs of others than I do actually writing my own.

So you folks out there are the ones to blame if you find my 'hit and miss' article appearances somewhat annoying. Oh yes! I know you are ALL going to deny it and after a chorus of "Who?  Me?" and "WTF!" you will all, no doubt, start thinking I am carzy.

Well  I'm not carzy ... just mildly lysdexic!

I get carried away by your wit, ramblings, rages and dribble so that by the time I get to writing my one masterpiece whatever buzzing back and forth between my ears has gone!

So you ARE to blame whether you believe it or not.

Pearl is in many ways the most prolific offender and must shoulder much of the blame.  Living with wise-cracking and devious cats gives her more literary ammunition than most.

A Diary of A Mad Woman occasionally blows my socks off (cleaned that one up a little) with accounts of her shenanigans ... and those booby-pics are wicked too!

Hello World (a newbie) shows promise and I very often get caught up by the ramblings of A little Sprite,  Bitchin' Wives Club, laughing my abs off and ... well, you can see who I follow.

But, dear reader, they are just the tip of the iceberg.  As guilty of being a distraction as they most assuredly are, there are many more bloggers whose work I read that I haven't decided to follow yet, who are just as guilty.

That point made, I would like to serve you today's morsel: a joke (my favourite) which I hope will amuse you.

There was once an old man who one day wandered up to Heaven's gate and rang the bell.  Jesus was on gate duty and went out to see what the fuss was about.

"Excuse me", said the old man. "Can you help me?  I'm looking for someone".

Jesus scratched his head and replied "Oh! That might not be so easy.  There are millions of people up here".

"No!", came the old man's reply. "It should be easy, you see the person I'm looking for has holes in his hand and his feet".

Jesus was visibly taken aback. "Father?" he asked.

The old man squinted at Jesus and asked "Pinocchio?"

(The 'daddy' takes a bow and exits stage right.)

I apologise to those who feel that their religious beliefs has been ridiculed, attacked or merely dented by this affront. 

A Thought Clearing Exercise To End The Year.

In the past, after posting an article of which I was especially proud of, a wave of satisfaction would wash over me like a mini tsunami and I would allow myself the (brief) privilege of a being thrilled at the thought of someone actually reading and enjoying it.

But the bloggi-verse (I refuse to use the word 'blogosphere' because I didn't think of it first) seems to swallow my words just as fast as I can type them and, although they're still out there (somewhere), they are pretty much ignored.  There is a modicum of interest in my blog and it seems to have drawn in a small following, for which I am grateful, but they (my words) have failed to ignite the fires that would put me on the 'Bloggers Map', as it were.

I would have liked the response of my peers to have been somewhat better, but at the end of the day I write for myself ... as a mind clearing exercise ... and not purely for the entertainment of others so it isn't so bad.

Those bloggers (and friends) that follow my blog seem to be intelligent folks which pleases me greatly as I would hate to be read only by people who have to remove their bra's or socks in order to count to two!

So, a big thank you to the valiant few brave souls who follow my dribble.

As I will be working from 2.30 pm until midday on the 1st, I would like to wish everyone a

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Damn!

I won't be back for a whole year!!!

The Day I Was Robbed Of Fame And Fortune

Yesterday, as I sipped my Latte in a cafe in Cardiff, my eye caught a glimpse of a yellow piece of paper pinned to the notice board that they'd hung on the wall for the students to advertise gatherings, swaps, apartments, etc..

For a while I was a little confused as I realised that what was written on the paper was somehow familiar, but I couldn't for the life of me works out why.

I read it - Oooooo! - maybe three or more times, trying to sift through that mental cesspit of my mind for some form of  recollection that would help me to put a label on this text and solve the problem.

I was so absorbed in dredging through my memory that I failed to notice that at the bottom of the page was a tell-tale clue, which would have instantly put my curiosity into neutral and answered the question  I was asking;

"Why is this text so familiar?"

The 'Barista', who was passing, was quickly asked if he knew the origins of the text in front of me.

He said that he had no idea where it came from but ... at this point he indicated with a finger the tell-tale clue ... it could have come from there.

The 'clue', which I missed entirely, was ....

 http://symdaddy.blogspot.com/search?q=Cruel+Literature


Yes folks. It was one of mine and I totally failed to recognise it.

This is the article:

Unusually cruel literature

After rising this morning like a rather small, and less bright sun I realised, as I performed my pandiculation, that although I could (as indeed all men could) be accused of colposinquanonia and ximelolagnia, that I am not a bad person at heart.

Being adept in the art of adoxography and also a self confessed autolatrist, I am prone to producing the occaisional article which, to many, may seem somewhat borborygmus-like and from time to time include charientism's which could cause offence.

To those offended by my offerings, I can assure you they are merely witzelsucht and not intended to upset anyone ... not even the steatopygic and abecedarian amongst you ... and I would like to offer my sincere apologies.

Get those dictionaries open.


For those of you without dictionaries.

Pandiculation: The act of stretching and yawning.

Colposinquanonia: Estimating a woman’s beauty based on her chest.

Ximelolagnia: the urge to stare at women who are sitting with crossed legs.

Adoxography: fine writing on trivial or base subject.

Autolatrist: someone who worships him/herself'

Borborygmus: Bowel sounds, the gurgling, rumbling, or growling noise from the abdomen.

charientism: A figure of speech wherein a taunting expression is softened by a jest; an insult veiled in grace.

Witzelsucht: A tendency to pun, make poor jokes, and tell pointless stories, while being oneself inordinately entertained thereby.

Steatopygic: Having an extreme accumulation of fat on the buttocks.

Abecedarian: a person who is learning the alphabet or the rudiments of a subject.


-------------------------------------------------------------------


I have to admit that I felt really stupid for for not recognising my own article but, at the same time, I felt rather proud of myself for having an article on display, even if it was only on a cafe's notice board.


When I pointed out that I was the author of that little piece, I was not mobbed by people asking for my autograph, nor was I in anyway congratulated for my skill's.


The response of the 'Barista' was a simple shrug of the shoulders and curt comment which I believe included a reference to excrement.


With that remark, the wave of fame on which I was ever so briefly surfing, crashed onto the shingle and returned me to nonentity-ship with a bump.


Does a notice board count as having been published?