I'm not well, so I'm at home, feeling slightly guilty. (Things haven't changed much - almost eight years ago I wrote this).
It's chilly here, damn chilly.
For most of the year the huge sash windows that make up most of my North and East walls let the light of our nearest star fill my little living space and allow the photons to scatter where they will. At this time of the year, with the wind blowing in from the Urals and damp from its passage across the North Sea, it can be cold enough to prompt a brass monkey to write to his MP.
I'm about to return to my bed and continue reading Bill Bryson's wonderful Lost Continent. If I don't blog again in the next few days, send help - I may be trapped under the stack of quilts on my bed.
This is Julius Welby, signing off for now from London, England, wishing peace to Bloggers everywhere.
* Insert suitable heart warming signing off music here. *
There, that aught to hold the little bastards.
12:28:20 PM 
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