I did start a few posts, but they didn’t really go anywhere. For example, I began writing about Abu Qatada and the failed attempt to deport him to Jordan because of the risk of torture. I wondered if this involved him being force-read her autobiography and other ‘literary’ works.
Then there was the resignation of Fabio Capello when I thought it important to rule myself out of the running for the England job, but not important enough to actually publish the post.
On the home front, I was musing about my son the caveman. This was a reference to his bedroom which is certainly cave-like that is littered with the detritus of human habitation, but the clincher for it cave-ness was confirmed by the bat that flew in the open window last week, presumably to take up residence.
I could have written that the number of words I know is estimated at 50,071 according to Word Dynamo. My problem, of course, is getting those words in a sensible order.
Speaking of words, another potential subject was the excruciatingly pretentious langauge used by estate agents to describe their clients’ properties, not to mention appalling punctuation, but I’ll leave that for another time.
So you see, nothing worth writing about at all.