Jogle Blogle – Day 18

Welcome back. I know you’re desperate for news of the Jogle and to find out if the mission to re-supply the Jogler with wi-fi was successful. We can now reveal that the Blogler and the Bloglers Mate did indeed succeed and you can read about that daring sortie into deepest Scotland here https://mistybooks.wordpress.com/2019/06/04/jogle-blogle-emergency-interim-report-update/

And so in the morning of Tuesday 4th June, Day 18 of my brother’s walk from John O’Groats to Land’s End he set out with companions of wife Sue and former boss Phil Stepp from Crainlarich. 

Past the station and it’s ZZ stop (get it eh? Sort of a play on words thing going on there). And out onto The West Highland Way once again.

On through Beinglas Woods which are once again being actively managed after years of neglect and form part of the largest and least disturbed remnant of ancient forest at the northern tip of Loch Lomond.

 

 

 

 

 

Lunch was at Beinglas farm while the rain passed by and the Joglers party emerged into the (for them) unusual sight of sunshine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wildlife encounter of the day owes this meeting of man and beast to Robert the Bruce. According to legend as he passed an Act safeguarding them because a herd saved his life by distracting soldiers hunting him as he hid in a nearby cave.

Finally the gallant band made it to Inversnaid and Garrison’s farm https://www.garrisonofinversnaid.co.uk/ which they can highly recommend and who have generously agreed to sponsor Steve on his travels. If you would like to do so too, you can at http://bit.ly/2Tzmjwi

Sadly it was at this point they learned that Phil could not continue. Yes, Bossin Thejogle was broken beyond repair and has had to withdraw from this part of the Jogle. Apparently he was packaged up, stamped and marked, ‘DAMAGED GOODS – HANDLE WITH CARE’ before being posted home from a local Post Office. We wish him and his blisters a speedy recovery.

Finally as we leave you with more scenic shots of the days journey, an apology – the Blogger neglected to give you the stats for Day 17 yesterday. (Who shouted ‘Sack him!’? There’s no need!) Anyway, without further without ado, they are:-

Mileage Day 17 16.9 – Day 18 15.3 – Total 285.33

Steps Day 17 36,201 – Day 18 35,202 – Total 594,980

Footnote: It can be confirmed that The Crippled Duck re-entered its standard orbit of The Hinksford Arms car park at 16:24 BST

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Jogle Blogle – Day 17

What was to become a momentous Day 17 of the Jogle started dismally and only got worse as the weather deteriorated rapidly.

Little did the Jogle party know that a rescue mission had been launched from back home in The Black Country following their transmission of the previous night, ‘We’re losing wi-fi…’ Thankfully that weak SOS was picked up back at Blogle HQ, but the Jogler, The Jogleress and Bossin Thejogle were completely unaware that their plight had been recognised, cut off as they were from the outside world with no social media whatsoever! For details of that brave rescue attempt see https://mistybooks.wordpress.com/2019/06/03/jogle-blogle-emergency-interim-report/

 

The more astute reader may have noticed that we are a few days behind the actual Jogle in this Blogle and that critical wi-fi breakdown can now be revealed as the reason as we attempt to catch up.

Pictures have since been recovered that shows their laborious trek along the West Highland Way in atrocious weather to the evening stopover at Crainlarich. At some point they passed by The Bridge of Orchy Hotel, with its associations to horse racing. This old rusting chassis was not, they hoped, the remains of the Model T Ford on which the Jogleressette had been pictured a few short days earlier. The Green Welly Stop attempted to entice them in with the promise of chainsaw carvings, but wearily they trudged on by.

 

As you will no doubt recall, Steve Robertson is walking from John O’Groats to Land’s End, see http://bit.ly/2Tzmjwi

 

 

 

And this latest leg of the journey took them past the battlefield from The Battle of Dalrigh where Robert the Bruce was defeated by Clan MacDougall in 1306, on by the ruins of St. Fillan’s priory and along by Kirton Meteorological Station where they were not shocked to discover that it was one of the wettest places in Britain.

 

Finally they staggered exhausted into the local pub and were greeted by the welcome sight of the rescue party.

Find out how the mission to re-supply the Jogle with wi-fi was resolved in tomorrow’s edition of the Jogle Blogle and learn of yet another shocking development.

Jogle Blogle – Day 16

Alright, alright, alright, that’s quite enough of that, thank you very much! There’s been far too much frivolity on this site of late I’ve noticed. Let’s just get back to the business in hand – Jogling.

If you recall, my brother Steve set out on the 18th. May from John O’Groats in an effort to walk down to Land’s End (a so called JOGLE – they’ve got acronyms for everything these days)  in 65 days. He’s doing it in aid of Macmillan Cancer Support, check out his reasons for doing so here at http://bit.ly/2Tzmjwi

At Inverness he was joined by wife Sue who accompanied him along the Great Glen Way to Fort William where they met up with kids, Rachael and Michael along with Rachael’s chap, Andy. The appropriately named Jogler, Jogleress, Mini-Jogler, Jogleressette and Jogleressette’sfella then proceeded to climb Ben Nevis – did I not mention, he’s doing the 3 peaks en route as well, mad as a box of frogs I tell you!

After a successful up diddly up up and down diddly down down, the kids left and were replaced by Steve’s former boss Phil, now to be forever known as Bossin Thejogle.

We catch up with them on Day 16 as they set out in foul weather for the trek to Inveroron along the West Highland Way.

 

Leaving Kinlochleven they pass Ice Factor, one of the top 5 attractions in the highlands. In an aluminium smelting building is housed the biggest ice climbing wall in the world. The former Alcan smelting plant was served by a hydroelectric power system which also meant that every house in the village was connected to electricity, the first village in the world to do so.

Wildlife encounter of the day was with this one antlered stag in the car park of The Kingshouse (lunch was taken),  just across the road from the Glencoe Mountain Resort. 

 

 

 

And some moody shots as the weather eventually started to brighten and the merry band of travellers made their way across Rannoch Moor and along Thomas Telford’s cobbled motorway into Inveroron.

The stats for the day were as follows.

Mileage 18.6, so total now 253.13

Steps 41,439 so again total of 523,577

The walk was 7 hours 17 minutes and 48 seconds at a maximum elevation of 1797 feet

Jogle Blogle – Day 15

Now here’s a thing. Having had a rest day on Day 14, the Jogler and Jogleress set off again on Day 15 for a very short (by their standards) walk.

Apparently they passed the official start of their Day 15 jaunt on when they whizzed past on Day 13 en route to their digs for the night (I hope you’re keeping up with this dear reader) and considered it to have already been done. They therefore decided that it was not worth retracing their steps for the 5 miles or so that they’d already covered. Not only that but someone in Scotland had already repositioned the original end of the West Highland Way – which incidentally they’re doing the wrong way round, so it’s actually the start – moving it further away from England. Something to do with Mel Gibson painting his face blue probably. 

What’s that madam? 

What am I ‘wittering on about now?’

Well let me explain it like this. Imagine if you will, Usain Bolt jogs on down to the start of his 100 meter Olympic final. He settles down in his blocks and thinks, ‘I know what I’ll do, I’ll practice my start.’ He launches off down the track for 20 metres or so, shouts back to the starter saying, ‘Tell you what man, I’ll start from here, I’ve just done that bit.’ 

Now I’ve checked in the rules and it is technically allowable, let’s face it they have actually walked that bit, just not on the day that they said they would. However I do feel that in the spirit of the Jogle that some kind of forfeit should be meted out – a drive through penalty down the pit lane for instance, or perhaps they could walk the next leg backwards – I’ll have a word and see what can be done about this technical infringement.

Anyway, on with the Jogle.

As mentioned yesterday, the Mini-Jogler, the Jogleressette and the Jogleressette’sfella have now departed. Indeed, here’s a photo of the Jogleressette in a replica of the Model T Ford (the driver has just told her a particularly funny joke) which was driven and pushed up Ben Nevis in the ‘20’s. If they’re going home in that they should be back by Christmas.

 

The remaining Jogle crew have now been joined by Steve’s old M.D. @NewellPalmer the appropriately named Phil Stepp – no, when I say old I’m not commenting on his age, just his former position, so let’s get that straight. In keeping with Blogle tradition he deserves a moniker for his part in the epic journey, so obviously he’ll be Bossin Thejogle. Makes you wonder who’ll turn up next doesn’t it? There will soon be more people walking from John O’Groats to Land’s End than there will be reading about it.

And so our band left Fort William at last and headed down the Way there to Kinlochleven. So here are the obligatory scenic shots. As you can see the weather was some of Scotland’s moody best.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Today’s wildlife of choice and finally a deer gets into our album.

Past the site of the MacDonald’s chasing the Campbell’s across country following the Battle of Inverlochy. – I don’t know why, perhaps they didn’t pay for their Happy Meal or something.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bossin Thejogle was put to work snapping pictures along the way.

And then down into Kinlochleven itself.

Stats of the day are, miles 13.2, giving a total of 234.53. Steps 30,124 giving a total of 482,138 in a time of 5 hours 43 minutes and 1 second. They were still quite high in places at an elevation of 1088 feet.

The forecast is bad for tomorrow so join us again then and don’t forget to take a look at Steve’s just giving page for Macmillan Cancer Support at http://bit.ly/2Tzmjwi

I’m feeling a little bit cranky

I suppose your all feeling very smug, aren’t you?

Everyone back home in the UK I’m talking to.

Yes, you!

Enjoy your extra hour in bed did you?

I bet you did!

Me, being over here in the USA didn’t have that little luxury, did I? Oh no indeedy.

Normally I wouldn’t be too miffed. I mean you’ll lose it again come next spring won’t you. Oh and how you’ll moan then? Yes you will, because it always happens. The papers will be full of it. ‘What’s the point?’ ‘Only the bloody farmers want it’ ‘It’s all due to Brexit,’ that sort of thing. The trouble is that so will I, without the benefit of this years gain.

But do I get sympathy now? 

No, nothing. Because you’ve got an extra hour of coveted beauty sleep, that’s why. Not you of course madam, (let’s face it that’d take a damn sight longer). Sorry, dear? No nothing. We were just talking amongst ourselves, weren’t we folks. (I don’t think she knows actually, if I see her coming I cover the mirrors).

Now you can say it’s my fault for being on holiday. Blame me, yes it’s all my own fault. But I feel that I’m being unfairly penalised here.

What’s that? Why?

Because I’m not getting it back am I, that’s bloody why.

I’ll get on the flight home and at some point in mid Atlantic an extra hour will just get tacked on. It won’t be commented on or noted in any way. If I do happen to get 40 winks on the plane I won’t wake feeling refreshed and grateful for the precious gift I haven’t actually been given. I’ll just be jet-lagged and cranky.

Cranky, yes. A bit like now, thank you for pointing that out.

Let’s face it I won’t ever get it back will I? It’s not as if I had a receipt, could take it back to the shop and say, ‘this hour is faulty, can you please replace it in accordance with my statutory rights?’

And yes I take your point. On a long haul flight every minute does indeed seem like a week and by that reasoning I’ll gain at least eight years, but those are eight years of red eyed purgatory. You’ve just had one hour luxuriating in your pit. There’s a difference.

It doesn’t matter that you’re not tired, does it. You could use it constructively. Stare at the ceiling, mentally putting the world to rights. 

Have breakfast in bed for once.

That sort of thing.

Pardon madam? You’re feeling a bit unfulfilled yourself? Why? Well never mind, next time make sure the batteries are fully charged! 

Wha..? Her phone was flat, the alarm didn’t go off and she missed the whole ‘extra hour’ thing entirely. Honestly you lot! Mind you thinking about things like that perhaps having a bit more time we could even have – pardon – oh thanks a lot! Kate says I normally manage that in thirty seconds! 

Anyway, writing this has given me time to come up with a solution. 

I know exactly what to do now.

I’m coming back here at the end of March to not lose my hour then instead.

So stick that in your pipe and smoke it! We’ll see who’s cranky then shall we?

Send the cavalry

So I’ve swapped Misty and Milly for a couple of weeks for their American cousins. That’s Henry (the small white one) and Murphy (the bigger brown one).

Pardon?
I don’t think that they bark with American accents, no.

Anyway… Sorry, what!?

No they don’t walk on the wrong side of the path either. And before you start again let’s not get into the whole potato, potarto/ tomato, tomarto argument o.k. We’d be here all day.

As I was about to say, I’ve been taking the lads out for a walk. In the morning, when it’s cooler – sorry, I just had to get that dig in. Is it raining back home? Oh dear!

But. And as so many things are over here, this is a big BUT. No, with one ‘T’, dear – there is a difference. Can I carry on now? Thank you.

But, when me and the girls go out in dear old Blighty we usually venture down the cut – oh, apologies again, that’s a Black Country phrase meaning ‘along the canal towpath’ – the most dangerous thing we are likely to encounter is a slightly miffed duck, annoyed because we haven’t brought it some bread.

Here in Fulshear, Texas, the new housing estates tend to be surrounded by water. Like a moat around a castle. And very picturesque it is too. Egrets stand by the bank looking all, well egrety actually, the banks are lush green grass, fountains fount. Lovely.

Hold on. What’s this? A sign. Let’s just take a look… WTF!

I thought those ripples in the middle were a bit big for any sort of fish I’ve ever seen the fishermen of England drag out of the Staffordshire and Worcester canal. And although the grass is neatly trimmed for the first foot or so, isn’t that long grass a bit too close to the path? Dogs don’t hiss over here, do they? And what ‘other wild life’? Mice? Raccoons? Grizzly’s? The sign’s not very specific is it. I mean I went to Alaska once and believe you me bears really do shit in the woods. I came across some (bear shit not bears). It was still steaming. It was probably still steaming in the extremely short period of time it took me to hurtle back to a place of safety.

Well, I mean! Honestly! These are new estates. What are they trying to do? It must be the modern day equivalent of getting the covered wagons into a defensive circle in case of attack and the 7th cavalry aren’t around for protection. Any enemy of note isn’t about to come crawling through the grass to pinch the barbecue while you’re not looking are they? No one’s likely to swim across the lake to have an illicit bounce on your trampoline are they?

And what if poor Fido goes missing. Slips out of the back gate or a hole in the fence in the middle of the night. Are you going to go looking? Too right – nor me matey! One wrong move could be fatal. Stick your foot in a puddle accidentally and the next thing you know you’re doing the death roll tango with a ten foot reptile! The only thing you’ll find of your best friend the next day is a tuft of fur and some frightened poo. Leave well alone, that’s what I say.

Next time me and the boys go out hiking I shall take a lot more notice when they start to bark in whatever regional accent they’re using. For all I know they’re shouting, ‘Big scaley thing with teeth. And his tail ain’t wagging.’

You can buy guns here you know. 

Excuse me – I’m just popping down to Walmart for an AK47.

Oh, oh, oh it’s magic…

It’s a strange thing when you have too much time on your hands. The things that go through your mind I mean.

Take now for instance. I’m on a plane.

I’ve been sat in more or less the same position for nigh on 3 1/2 hours and I’m likely to do so for a further 5 1/2. Despicable Me 3 has just finished and you get to thinking,

1. Should I go to the loo, just for something to do?

2. When are they feeding me again?

3. What the bejasus is holding this thing in the air?

I know, I know – you can get all scientific on me.

You can tell me about differential air pressure until you’re blue in the face.

Yes, and thrust too madam. I thought you might put your twopennorth in!

But it’s me sitting here over the wing and believe you me, there’s very little between the underside of the aerilon (or whatever that flappy thing is called) and the tip of bloody Greenland as far as I can see.

And 39000 feet straight down looks pretty far at the moment, I can tell you.

Between us and Arsuk (it’s true, Google it. What an unfortunate postal address that is! Where do you live? Arsuk. Well I only asked!) there is air. A lot of it admittedly, but it’s not exactly heavy. We breath the stuff in and out constantly and it doesn’t take a great deal of effort. Can it really hold up God knows how many tons (yes I know it’s tonnes but we’re going to the USA. And anyway, after Brexit do we get our measurements back?) of aircraft, fuel, cargo and us poor bloody passengers?
Furthermore, have you had the chance to study an aeroplane wing in detail?

No? Nor me until now. Honestly I’ve seen more sheet steel in your average bus shelter. 

And rivets! Don’t talk to me about rivets! I used rivets in metalwork at school once. Not the sturdiest of fixings in my opinion.

Pardon? Yes, that was rather a long time ago, thank you for pointing that out.

As I was saying I have used the odd rivet in various metallurgical disasters and they do in my experience tend to shear as soon as you look at them. Yes, I know that there are rather a lot of them dotted about the aerodynamic surfaces, but personally and particularly now that my mind is working overtime, I would have preferred to see row upon row of nice half inch diameter bolts. In super high tensile steel!

So what is it holding us up?

I’ve had a lot of time to think.

And I have come to the conclusion that there is only on possible logical answer.

It’s magic.

Procrastination as an art form

So – after a period of unproductive procrastination which has compromised of many hours on social media, many hours contemplative navel gazing and an inordinate amount of just plain faffing about I decided to write again.
Let’s face it, for an author procrastination is not so much a hinderance – it’s more of an art form really isn’t it?
Now I should perhaps say that I am waiting for the third ‘Misty’ book to be published, so there could have been a pinch of resting on my laurels thrown into that little mix just for good measure.
So, with my typing finger in hand – in truth it was always there, I was just using it to pick my nose – I set about editing my sci-fi/ fantasy novel.
I never liked the ending, I must confess, so after ten long years of deliberation I decided to change it.
Well you can’t rush these things, can you?
The trouble though with doing that is that there are parts of this weighty tome which allude to what the ending might be much earlier in the manuscript.
So those have to change too.
This is where the ‘writing’ as opposed to ‘editing’ comes about.
Well I’d forgotten what a pain in the arse it was, especially with the one finger keyboard poking affliction with which I am saddled.

Oh how I wish that I could type as effortlessly as Jerry Lewis in that scene from ‘Who’s Minding The Store?’ Remember that? No? Look it up on YouTube. (It’s not procrastination, it’s research).

Incidentally I notice that the poor old bugger recently popped his clogs – no doubt we’ll be mourning his passing for many a long year. Confused? Then you haven’t read my blog, ‘Doctor Who and the Lazarus Effect,’ have you. Do keep up!
Anyway, I printed out a rainforest of paper (this is going to be an eBook after all, so it doesn’t really count, does it?) and slashed at it with a red pen. Then, satisfied that the affected parts had been cut away, except for that bit – I really liked the way I’d phrased that, oh, oh, and that bit – that was really funny.
Pardon?
Yes you’re right.
They have to go too.
Root and branch.
Into the bin.
It’s not too late though, I can still fish them out…
Oh, all right.
Jeez, you’re ruthless you lot aren’t you.
See, now look what’s happened. That bit is now where that other part should be, the one in chapter two; or was it forty seven? Hmmm!

Don’t worry, I can get around it.
Trust me, I’m an author.

We’ll make him a her and have her do this instead of that.
Better?
That doesn’t sound quite right, does it?
Nor that.
And does this tie in with that scene I wrote in chapter three?
I didn’t think so.
Am I showing or telling?
If only I’d written it from a different perspective.
Set it in a different time.
And place.
Perhaps with other characters?

Yes, that’s it!
Of course the plot line will have to change.
And the outcome.
Thinking about it, you’re right.
It is a little bit darker than before.
And you think that it’s what?
A different genre!?
Do you really think..?
You know I think you may be right.
Now I need a new title!
And a different sodding cover.
I’d virtually sorted the synopsis and the blurb for the back.
Now I’ll have to…
Do you think that dedication is still appropriate?
No, nor me.
You know what – now I’ve got two bloody books to edit!
FFS!

Pass me that box set of Game Of Thrones.
I need to chill out.
Watch it for the third time from – well, from the beginning I suppose.
All seven series.
See you later.
Much, much later!

Isn’t copy and paste wonderful…

I know, I know.

Don’t keep on!

‘If I carry on like this I’ll never get anything done.’

Whinging on like that!

I’ll log out in five minutes, o.k?

…hang on, just got to…

…well, did you ever?

I’ve never seen one that shape before.

Have you?

I didn’t think so.

What?

Yes, I’m coming. (not in that way madam, you’re on the wrong blog site! If you want that sort of stuff I think you press ctrl, alt, delete and ask for Tarquin).

Where were we?

Ah yes, you were trying to get my attention.

And I was…

…any minute…

…hold up!

Did you see that!?

Blimey! She’s extremely flexible.

For someone with an Adams apple.

Yes I know.

It’s an addiction.

My name is David J Robertson and I’m a social media addict.

Extreme measures are called for – I really should write out one hundred times:-

I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.

Ah now – where was I?

Oh yeah, have you seen that guy with the banjo and the goat on Facebook?

I must leave a comment.

‘Lol!’

And share it!

Funniest thing I’ve seen since…

Whoa!

What’s this?

Oh no, not the ice skating chimp with the puppy and the kitten again!

Some people!

Seriously, I’m going to have to unfriend them.

I’m just so sick of this cutesy stuff!

It just makes me want to chuff up my dinner.

But before I let them drift into social obscurity I’m going to comment,

‘FFS!’

Just to show them.

Bastards!

 

I wonder what’s happening on Twitter?