Don't worry about me, JJ. I'm fine, still sober. Just haven't had much to say. After my loose ends feeling on Friday, I had a delightful weekend. Summer is my season.
I've been enjoying your gratitude posts but for some reason I could not leave comments on your blog last time I was there.
I wish I had more time to blog and more things to say. Maybe I will start posting my gratitude stuff. I'm certainly grateful to be sober. It was a nice gift to myself.

Wet Legs And so, having exorcised the mini-rant about my poor dead dad and an unfortunate incident involving HMS Tiger I can return to more worthy topics of discussion.*
Umbrellas.
What is the matter with the umbrella manufacturers of the world? It's a simple enough design. Get a pole, shove an up-and-down thing in the middle. Attach some struts at the top. Attach struts to up-and-down thing and the top struts. Stretch some water-resistant material (preferably with hideous design and/or blatant advertising) over the whole thing. Bingo.
So, why is it that 3/4 of the Pogobrollies failed to do their job this morning? The Pink Hippo Brolly (with added ear attachments) has only three bits of working struttage. The Brightly-Coloured Legoland Brolly has only one. The Nondescript Brolly's up-and-down thing had rusted into place.
Result: lots of tutting and mental screaming as the family tried to get out the door to school (being late, as usual). Struts poking through material in pretty-short-lived attempt to produce a servicable brolly or three.
Only the Green Legoland Brolly (mine) is vaguely useable. I say vaguely because it's been blown inside-out so many times now that one side of it had some well bendy struts which have all but snapped.
The worst is that it cost fifteen quid too.
£15!!! For a brolly that lasts five minutes!!!
BROLLY MANUFACTURERS - SORT YOUR ACT OUT!
* Phew. Sorry, I was taking things a bit seriously for a second. That will remain offline, on a little white lappy imaginatively named 'mac2' :-)

Snow...
It is the first time that I see Ca: snow! Mrs Croquette took to me in her arms and posed to me on the edge of the window of roof: impressing. At one time, I wanted to go to trott me on the roof but it firmly caught me and I acknowledge that I did not want to start again.I found the repertory where it put its photographs, I join some low.With share Ca, Mrs Croquette began a new book, it is insane what it passes like time to read. I recopied a passage, just some lines:
"the Winter, we will go in a small pink coachWith blue cushions.We will be well. A nest of insane kisses restsIn each marrowy corner."
I stop there, I can right statement that it is of certain Arthur Rimbaud. Do not know. I wait until it speaks about it with her girlfriends, history that I include/understand something there. The only trick that she to me said, when one looked at snow falling on the roofs, it is that times, poetry, it is deep and as of time it is light, and that in this moment, she seeks a little light things, to divert its attention and its emotions: a history of Asia, tidal wave, very not included/understood, but with the sound of his voice, I have make velvet leg on his cheek.