Excuses, excuses

What with having a full-time job, a family, and friends who persist in asking you to do things with them, it's a hard life being a blogger.

It really is, and, to be honest, I don't envy myself being one. In fact, it's so bad that I demand violins. (Are Hilary Hahn and Nicola Benedetti available?)  

As a blogger, you keep intending to post important pieces - pieces bound to resound around the blogosphere and beyond - and to conduct scorchingly incisive in-depth surveys into the BBC's output which, in some sort of other world to this one, might very well shake that wicked corporation to its fabulously wicked core, but you end up having to spend agreeable hours with your family or going for walks, meals or nights-out with your friends, or doing extra hours at a job you like, and then, after all that, ending up feeling too happy or too knackered to put finger to laptop....

...and, thus, a thousand illuminating masterpieces about what Ed Stourton said to bishop about the actress, or about why Marcus Brigstocke's comedy really isn't a laughing matter, melt into thin air and, like the cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples, etc, dissolve and leave not a pair of breasts behind.

We are such stuff

As dreams are made on, and our little life

Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex'd;

Bear with my weakness; my, brain is troubled:

Be not disturb'd with my infirmity:

If you be pleased, retire into my cell

And there repose: a turn or two I'll walk,

To still my beating mind.

I was intending to conduct a forensic examination of a single day's worth of Radio 4 broadcasting (this past Tuesday's output) but, despite having listened to quite a bit of it, I've arrived at Friday night and still have had no time to really work on it. Nor will this weekend allow me much space to get qwerty with it either. And, then, by next Tuesday, many of the programmes from last Tuesday will dissolve from the BBC i-Player. 

So, here I am of a Friday night, realising that I've no realistic chance of doing what I hoped to do on the beginning of the week. Do I regret that? Yes, a bit. But I'll be having fun not doing it too. So that's all right then.

I thought I'd share that with you, and then wish you a lovely weekend.