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The game's afoot

It is to my eternal chagrin that sitemeter lists my location as Widnes. Ever been to Widnes?. Sufice it to say I don't live there, or anywhere near there. In point of fact there are a multitude of major population centres between where I currently sit, and Widnes. It's perplexing.

I'll keep it brief, I think, largely because I'm properly goosed and it's a hard old day in the kitchen coming up, but it occured to me that I've not written anything in what could be termed a biographical vein for a while. So here we go. Suffice it to say all is tolerable here at coastal towers, and thanks for asking. Not rolling around yelling "money fight!" in a weirdly high pitched and girlish tone, but not inclined to curl up and die as currently stands.

Hard to go much further than that really.
Obviously wife and son are not for the entertainment of the internet at large. Though I feel reasonably secure in letting you know that wife is just fine, ta, and that small son has developed a worrying prediliction for shouting along to Tim Burton's "Corpse Bride". As for me, the blogs author, the man for whom considerations of privacy invasions are voided by the very act of writing, I'm kind of eehhh, y'know? Some, a little, not so much, a bit, maybe, kind of. Ech. Stick that in your OK magazine and smoke it.

(which reminds me, one of our customers turned up in Hello!'s awful, awful prole wedding pages, as to why one would wish to send anything to that I know not, precisely what void in your life will be filled by a few hundred thousand strangers going "doesn't he looks fat" or "That's a nasty frock" is beyond me. But there he was. And I had a vague and nasty feeling that I'd been loudly slagging said feature off not that long before. And we've not seen him since. There may be a connection).

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