Blogging...

Clearly there's something cathartic about writing this blog. For me that is, seeing as no-one actually seems to follow it. It's as if I have walked into the hills and dug a hole there into which I pour my secrets before carefully filling it in again, patting down the earth and seamlessly replacing the sod. Perhaps it's even quieter and more clandestine than that. I'm a small boy, sitting on a log in the wilderness, whittling a little wooden figurine of television's Jennifer Carpenter. Into this effigy's ear I whisper my meandering thoughts before burning it upon a small fire and catching the smoke in a bottle. I cork the bottle and seal it's top with wax, before burying it at the foot of an ancient oak tree, at the bottom of a valley that is to be permanently and irreversibly flooded by the destruction of a major dam, which has loomed for years above it - ominous, silent and cold...