Well I feel like writing. That's why I'm visiting here again. You must be wondering why I'm writing, right? Are you? You must, and you really must. For the first time in my life, I looked carefully at my counter. I had 11 views from last night -- I felt thrilled though. Now I know that with all respect and rubbish, for a blogger (I can be called one right? or am I not that political for you?) whose been around -- it sucks. But I'd like to believe that it was lazy winter Sunday...there was match that was won, people were drawn to beer and gin-tonic, and all those terrible things that people do when they don't particularly have work.
There might be some truth in it, there has to. Lord, I'm on a night shift. Have you been on one? Answer me, dear lord. No don't -- God's got good godly (check out the alliteration) timings.
Night shifts are weird. And I know this -- if you look at the Big Surd he looks it. but before I crip -- I would remind my dear readers that I'm not a call centre maniac. I'm a journalist. Although there's much difference -- there are lots of computers, phones here besides people always curse you.
But the shift is from 11 pm to 8 am -- and somewhere around 4 -- well I am new to the shifts -- that my spine's like rubber, and head floats like balloons. But things get around -- they usually do. And there's always a morning.