Hello everyone. You may or may not have noticed but I have taken a bit of a sabbatical and there have been no blog posts for a while.
Some of you may have enjoyed the break at least as much, if not more, than I did.
One or two of you may have missed reading my muddled thoughts whilst slurping your coffee in the mornings. I know I have, but I don’t count. They say you shouldn’t laugh at your own jokes, but when you know the punchline before you type it out, it’s hard not to.
The problem is, now that I am back, do I have anything to say? Has there been weeks of pent up creativity just waiting to burst out of my idea-filled brain? Or will it turn out (as I fully expect) that only the tiniest germ has been lying undisturbed and probably unperturbed, by the notion of being put into print?
I wonder if R. L. Stevenson or Conan Doyle suffered in the same way. Had they owned Olde Worlde blogs, would they have been stricken with The Curse of the Empty Brain Cell? Holmes would surely have discovered an answer to it and Dr Jekyll would have found able assistance in his friend Mr Hyde.
The answer would have come, but it may have been messy.
It has never ceased to amaze me how some people can write a tome the size of War and Peace at the drop of a hat, with nothing more than a tray of dirty cat litter for inspiration. It would help if the hat in question fell into the litter I suppose, but nevertheless, something good would have come out of the unfortunate incident.
I could drop someone else's hat including its wearer; onto the deck of the Titanic, send him off on an ill-fated journey. Have him survive all manner of trials and tribulations before returning home with a stash of evidence, including daily diary, photographs and sworn witness statements and at times, I'd still struggle to make a sentence worth reading out of it.
I suppose it's just down to talent.
I have a talent. Unfortunately, it won't bring me fame and fortune in the literary world. I will never make the lead role in the film, made using the evidence handed to me by the already mentioned survivor of the Titanic. I doubt you'll ever see me on TV, singing, dancing, or partnering some gorgeous minor celebrity as we glide gracefully around a mini ice rink in front of an audience of millions.
My talent, though not exactly gold standard, is still a talent.
I have developed it over many years, keeping it close, nurturing it secretly. I admit to being shocked when I first discovered my unusual ability. I tried to broach the subject with my family in the early years, but no one seemed the slightest bit interested. Maybe my talent hadn't developed sufficiently for even a friendly audience at that time.
Now, at last, I can reveal it to the world. I don't expect to see myself interviewed in the daily papers, nor do I think I'll be on the Jonathan Ross Show, performing it live. But a talent like this can't be kept hidden forever and I am now ready to reveal it, in all its awesome majesty.
I have the ability to turn my head into a cat magnet!
I can even do this in my sleep. In fact, when I am asleep, my talent is at its most powerful. Many a night I have gone to sleep cat-less, only to wake wearing the furriest, purriest hat imaginable; or, Misha, as she is known to the rest of my family.
No other family member has obtained the power of the cat magnet. It's not that I guard the secret jealously anymore; in fact, I'd happily share the talent. But strangely, no one else seems to want to learn how to attract living, breathing, nocturnal headgear.
My talent astounds me at times; I close the bedroom door before retiring, in a bid to ensure a chapeau-free night. But the power of my magnet is too strong for mere timber, and long before dawn, my purring headgear is in place. Body neatly draped over my greying locks, the long stripey tail tucked behind my ear. I sometimes dream I am being cooked alive in a furry microwave