I’ve just spent a thoroughly relaxing week-end with my Mum in Dorset and naturally, saw my co-author whilst there. I expressed the guilt I felt not having made any recent contributions to the SB, purely because I have absolutely nothing of note or interest to convey. This situation has arisen mainly because nothing exciting or interesting has occurred since our return from LA – merely sleeping, eating and working really and that just doesn’t provide the material for inclusion in a blog, or not one with which I (or my sis) would care to be associated, anyway.

However, there is an association whose sole purpose is to be as boring as possible, and as you might imagine, it has a large membership. I have resisted joining the Boring Brigade Blog so far in the vain hope that life will become so unexpectedly, coruscatingly and all-absorbingly interesting that I shall provide the inspiration for a Barbara Taylor Bradford novel or no longer be eligible for membership of the Boring Brigade at the very least. Come to think of it, BTB’s heroines normally commence upon their upward struggle in their youth, so I’ve missed that particular boat which will no doubt imminently be docking at exotic shores.

In the meantime I was hugely amused to find within a catalogue of silly ideas (one must find one’s amusement where one may) in the household pets section a slotted litter tray scoop with an integral spring in the handle. You can picture clods of animal waste catapulted into light fittings, shoes, behind domestic appliances or, if you’re really accurate, into the bin. I suppose they must have road-tested the thing, unless they apply BA ‘management’ standards in which case someone might be suing Kitty Klusters for an optically health-contrary clod in the eye.

There, a successful posting about nothing of any real relevance to anybody. I think I should take up being a sports commentator.