(Mr Pomo: It’s working. I’m wearing her down. As each day of November passes, she finds it harder and harder to post anything of merit, without resorting to “what we ate”, “what we plan to eat” and “why are we all sneezing”. She’s claiming headaches, housework, anything to get out of trying to write a post. She’s evinced a curious interest in the laundry pile. Suddenly even the belated tax form is more interesting than blogging. She’s spending quality time with her children, cooking fabulous meals for husband, and all the while she’s sweating, worrying about what on earth she’s going to post about today. What normally flowed has now gone all stiff and stultified. Her high standards will be her downfall – heh-heh-heh – and I will be triumphant.)
OK you nasty little trout, tonight you win.