It's very odd that even when you're retired with apparently no real claims on your time - shit still happens! I suppose the periods of quietude lull you into that 'hammock on a Summer's day' feeling so that even a few minor alarms and excursions suddenly throw you into a flailing shambles. Such it is with me although honesty insists (dammit!) that I confess it is mostly my own fault. I tend to leave the social calender to the Memsahib, in fact, if I had my way we wouldn't even have a social calender, and thus those occasional weeks come around in which various people desirous of our company, er, well, mostly the Memsahib's, seem to cluster instead of spreading themselves out amongst all the empty weeks. Toss in the fact that I have to give the first rendition of my latest military history talk on the subject of the Pacific War which gives every appearance of actually lasting longer than the war itself, plus, on a very much more serious note, the unexpected funeral of a man I did not know well but who I admired beyond description, and the uncomfortable fact, evident everytime I draw the curtains, that my part of the Churchyard grass needs cutting, including the overgrown part which I deliberately leave during the Spring and Summer so that the wild flowers can grow and the strimming and cutting of which will add yet more of my blood, sweat, toil and tears to the graveyard, and, not to be forgotten, a very dear friend's birthday lunch, plus I am poised to change our car . . . and . . . well, shit happens! So what I am trying to tell you gently, dear reader, is that blogging is likely to be somewhat erratic this week.
This huge disturbance to my normally placid life-style (do I have a 'life-style? - hardly!) is poised to become a perfect storm next week. You see, on Sunday I am taking an enormous leap into the 21st century. My IT Manager, known to you all as 'SoD' (Son of Duff), is descending and, whilst holding me off with one hand, he will with the other rip away my beloved Microsoft XP and replace it with Microsoft 8 - the very latest all-singing, all-dancing and, no doubt, all-crashing 'thingie' from that nice Mr. Gates. It could take me several months to get the hang of it so during the doubtless innumerable 'intermissions', so to speak, you must all be very patient and understanding. I blame my old e-pal 'Fallen Monk' whose site I regularly blight visit because the other day I tried to leave one of my witty comments (well, he's a hopeless old Leftie and deserves everything I hurl at him!) and his infernal machine told me that it could not accept anything from me because I was out-of-date. ME! What a bloody cheek! Anyway, next week I will not just be streets ahead of all of you but entire city blocks! Even if I may not know exactly how it works.
So, you see, great excitements at Chateaux Duff which I could well do without because I really don't 'do' excitement. Anyway, please bear with me if things are a bit hit and miss for a few days.