If anybody is reading this . . .

It's Thursday night at ten past ten. I've had two glasses of wine - something of a rarity for me - and The Wife had just retired to bed, to join The Little Commuter in what my primary school teacher would call the Land of Nod (and I hope Nod doesn't mind them trespassing). I am sitting at my computer and have just noticed that the picture of my baby boy that is currently lying on the desk waiting for someone to give it a proper home has a moustache of cat hairs, giving the impression that my son is, in fact, one of the three Musketeers (Aramis, I'd guess).

Anyway, I have had absolutely no time to update the blog recently. Fatherhood has taken over my life, as it surely had to, and when I've not been with The Little Commuter I have been attempting to lavish some attention on his mother and the cat, who has adapted with great fortitude to slipping down the pecking order. She is not deprived or negelected, just a bit less pampered. But she seems to appreciate us that much more as a result, so perhaps there's a moral in there somewhere.

The trains have been extremely busy, even with me going in earlier. Sitting down on board is something I contemplate with a certain sense of cynicism, as opposed to my previous misty-eyed optimism. I did have an amusing experience recently when I tried to claim a refund of some tickets I had bought whilst my Season Ticket was missing, only to find that they would not refund receipts, only the originals, which had been swallowed by the swanky new ticket machines. It was all very funny. I shall have to write about it at some point when I'm more coherent.

In the meantime, thansk for reading my inane ramblings. I hope to update the blog properly soon.