It’s a hard life being Haddon’s Blog, I can tell you. I mean, just look at the state of me, will you? The “Welcome” sign is hanging off and flapping in the breeze; last year’s draft versions have piled up in the driveway; the mice have chewed the stock of fonts so that this is the only one with any serifs left on it; and the tumbleweed is now blowing in across the courtyard. How come I managed to end up with such a useless, wordless, lazy, good-for-nothing author? I know, I know, he says he’s been on holiday. “Alright for some” is my response to that. While he and that rather attractive wife of his have been swanning round Italy and the UK, I’ve been simply languishing here, darling, in the most unseemly manner. I mean, I’m a BLOG for goodness sake! What use is such a thing without actual writing? But the worst thing of all, the salt in the wound, the knife in the guts, is that the damned fellow has been back from his “holiday” for THREE WEEKS. And has he paid me any attention? Not in the slightest. Had friends visiting, apparently and then his grandchildren, whoever they might be.
Well, you just wait Mister Haddon. One of these days you’ll waltz in and decide your going to start me up again and I WILL HAVE A BIG SULK. Then you’ll be sorry…
stuarthaddon 