I will be back with proper posts soon, I promise. Right now I haven't got time, because I have determined to spend my 9-5 days operating with ruthless workmanlike efficiency, at least the part of them that happens before lunch. As we all know as soon as the clock strikes five past two I will start flapping, jabbering, and cursing uselessly like a caged parrot, and none of us will get anything done at all. So if I'm going to tell you this dead important thing I've got to tell you I'd better do it straight away. Straight away!
Right then, here's the thing. There's going to be a Manchester blogmeet this weekend. It's starting on Saturday afternoon with tea and cakes (interesting post-modern Danish cakes) at the shiny new Kro Bar in Piccaddilly Gardens, and ending up in a back street boozer behind the train station called Mother Macs which has the rare distinction of being a pub in Manchester that I have never been to (largely because I've never been able to find it, but don't let that put you off. Yesterday lunchtime I had trouble finding WH Smiths until I realised I was mistaking the Arndale Centre for Eldon Square and was imagining I was back home in Newcastle- I was convinced I had to cut through Fenwicks and take a left at Greys Monument, and only remembered what city I was in when I noticed there were no seagulls or men in tattered red jackets shouting 'Chronicle', and the place didn't smell of the sea and Greggs cheese and onion pasties). Anyway if that all sounds too hectic for you then the blog weekend continues into Sunday (we don't do things by halves up here you know), when there will be a very slow meandering walk around the lake in Platt Fields Park (it's in Rusholme, over near where City used to play), possibly featuring small children and large ducks. Or was it large children and small ducks? I can't quite remember.
The whole thing is being organised by the brave and sociable Clare Sudbery (see my sidebar down there if you don't know who I'm talking about), and promises to be.... well, I don't know what it promises to be, exactly. I can promise you however that our blogmeet won't be in any way a cliquey affair, because most of us haven't met each other before at all, as far as I know. Hell, I haven't even met Clare and she lives two bus stops down the road. You see- not cliquey at all!
I don't know exactly who is coming- but there is going to be a special guest. Clare is keeping us guessing on that one, but all my bets are for either Curly out of Coronation Street, Pope Benedict XVI or the ex-England manager Don Revie. Oh, and my sister (and regular commenter on these pages) Abby is coming, all the way from New York and as part of her mysterious academic studies.
I know, it's all tremendously exciting and I for one can hardly contain myself. All welcome, bloggers and non-bloggers, from Manchester or wherever, come for the whole lot or just come to feed the ducks. Hope to see some of you there.
Right then. Twenty to two, PM. Time to re-adopt my super-efficient nine-to-five persona/ start slavering onto the desk like a badly-trained wolfhound and scaring my colleagues by emitting a series of low groans while ignoring the insistent chirping of the telephones. Roll on Saturday and those Danish pastries...