In a similar vein to one who finds himself making a rather smart casual jacket out of his tax returns, it appears that, despite swearing not twenty-four hours ago that I did not want to write one of these things, I am. It may be that I'm here in a pointless attempt to avoid looking for jobs to apply for; it may be that I was enticed by the heady prospect of being able to make up a title and change the fonts and all the pretty colours and have polls and comments and ohhh see, I've got carried away by it all.

The problem is that, although there can be no doubt that my thoughts are infinitely more articulate and sensible when transformed into text, the horrible suspicion that I have nothing interesting to say, or indeed the flair and panache necessary to hide the fact, blights what would otherwise be an exciting and stimulating experience. This, in turn, leads to the stupefying paranoia which causes me to believe that because I am more or less an English teacher, any spelling mistake I might make on this page, for all the world to see, could mean the end of life as I know it. I would be grateful if such mistakes went unmentioned. If this seems odd, you should see me play Trivial Pursuit...

Incidentally, the site name is likely to change. Despite being an admirable feline friend and indeed, a talented a mime artist, Mr Flossie has little or nothing to do with anything.