Stephen Fry once wrote a newspaper column in which he elegaicly and at some length explained that he had nothing to say. His notes about it in his collected essays said something to the effect that a columnist can get away with a column like that once.
Well, here’s mine. I’m not claiming to be any kind of writer or columnist or what-have-you. But I haven’t written anything at all on this blog since February, and the reason has been simple; I’ve nothing to say. Whether it’s the isolation of never-ending lockdown, or the every-day-is-exactly-the-same tedium of working from home, or what, I have no idea. But the fact is I’m bored senseless and one of the effects of that is that I have no conversation, no ideas, not even really any interests, honestly. I just sort of plod through the day.
So, yeah. Nothing to say, and I’ve said it.
Might delete this blog to be honest, it serves no real useful purpose.