it´s like shaking your box in front of the queen
I have a had a little holiday from blogging and am on the long road back to futility. Actually I´m sitting in a hotel lobby in the Canaries whilst Mrs Backroads´ sister searches desparately for a flight off this rock. My plan was to wander round looking at cheap gadgets but I lost the will to live after being hassled for the eighth time in as many minutes by desparate shop-owners. So instead, here I am getting back up to speed after blogger detox.
Not much has happened since the last post... except I nearly choked to death on a pork scratching in a Dorset pub car-park whilst trying to bring round a concussed Snicket. Probably worth a post in its own right that one, but I think we need to look forward rather than back, no?
So anyways, it´s back to the harsh climes of Blighty shortly. I can smell the bonfires and taste the toffee already. It´ll be jumpers and mulled wine before too long. Cuddling a warm girl, smelling stale perfume.
Right, I´m off to buy one of those caps with two cans of lager on top and a tube down to your mouth. I know my comedy me.