I was ludicrously tired today. Especially given that I slept in past midday. It wasn't a hangover- I didn't drink anything yesterday- but I was physically and mentally exhausted and incapable of doing anything productive.
As you may know I write each day's Warming Up on the day after the actual events. I sat on my sofa trying to think of anything interesting to write about my Boxing Day. Nothing sprung to mind. Nothing that I could be amusing about anyway. My mind was totally fuzzy and blank. Plus it seemed like nothing interesting had actually happened.
On days like this WU can be counter-productive. Obviously when you have been writing for over 1500 consecutive days then there will be times when the standard drops a little or when you've said all you can about certain occurences. And as exciting as my life is (!) there are those days where really nothing has happened.
If my brain is really firing then such days can lead to brilliant entries as I am forced to pick up on some tiny trivial incident and run with it or I really wrack my brain and suddenly recall something that almost passed by unnoticed that is ripe for the picking.
But today my brain was a mush and wasn't playing ball. I finally got round to writing something at about 8pm, hoping if I just got on with it that something hilarious and magical would appear. As you may have noticed, it didn't. The only slightly amusing line about changing into our city clothes was actually one of Phil's. It's not a big deal. Some entries will be better than others, but I am just trying to take you through the process and show you why this isn't always brilliant. Especially those of you who seem to get angry about the variable quality of this free service of four years and counting. Which has continued through holidays and feast days and weekends and days off. I can understand your anger.
It's doubly odd that I found it hard to think of a Boxing Day subject, because today without even trying I have thought of a couple of things that might have been worth discussing. One was Phil and my's amusement at Whispering Bob Harris's inane attempts to engage in conversation with people calling into his show. I like Bob, but he was rubbish at this.
The other was my not actual aunty, Aunty Jean asking me how long I was going to keep going with the blog. She asked me with the tone of voice that suggested maybe it was time to call it a day, or at least the acknowledgement that it couldn't go on forever. Which is true. I have failed to act on my New Year's resolution to give myself a break on days like today when I have nothing much to say. And I slightly worry that if I write substandard stuff that I will be judged on that.
Well we'll see. This isn't one of those Captain Oates blogs that people seem to write in the hope that people will email them and tell them not to stop - so please don't email me about that. I'd kind of like to get to five years unbroken now I'm so close. And I am probably too borderline autistic to stop. But maybe quality is better than quantity. And Aunty Jean is right. It has to end some time. And there's a part of me that feels that one period of my life is coming to an end and another is about to start. And that I have to spend less time on the fucking internet.
But for the moment, I am ploughing on.
