Finding out a few days ago that every single episode of Peep Show is available on Netflix Instant.
A losing fight against food poisoning.
Highlights of England versus Pakistan in the cricket.
The occasional intervention of ennui and laziness.
My family and other animals.
…Several things of late have slowed slightly my usual blogging pace (minimum of one post per week, naturally). But none of these things, dear reader, precisely none, can come between me and what I’m about to tell you. That this ramshackle rambling –
is my 100th post.
Yeah, I know. A discovery more diverting for me than for you, huh? But still. Devout cricket fan that I am and always will be, I can’t really not pause to mark the thing. A hundred! How did that happen?! And have any of you, I wonder, been endlessly lovely enough to read all of the other 99? …No, surely not: my ill-fated picture quiz, if nothing else, would have put paid to that.
No matter. Here’s the point I’m ambling, rambling, and fumbling my addled way toward: my hearty thanks to you for reading. You make a fun thing more fun, you really do – and your stellar efforts always leave me grateful (still more so, in fact, as you seem to have a charming way of coming back for more).
Anyhow. Because I’ll *never* get this chance to be quite so shamelessly indulgent ever again, here’s just a little sampling of, well, how I got to here:
(In some other words: ‘Six Old Blogs That I Really Rather Like… to hopefully nudge you closer to bookmarking this thoroughfare of nonsense that a year and half ago I called newjonnytransit in the finally fruitful hope that it could make a long commute more bearable, if you haven’t already done so.’)
(That was too many words, wasn’t it? Writing, eh – if you’re halfway good at it, it gets to be quite tricky. Especially when you’ve got Arsenal v. AC Milan to watch, and you haven’t had your dinner yet…)
Since I Started Work in New York City
In which for the first of several times, I’m reckless/foolhardy enough to ‘have a go’ at poetry.
In which I venture into the very outer reaches of pointlessness while searching for Corporate America’s missing sense of humor.
(Coney Island) Funnel Cake, Bumper Cars, and a Handful of Freaks
In which I report back from a Coney Island freak show, after stopping first for cake.
In which I shower you with a shit-storm of satire – blithely ignoring the fact that satire’s heyday was at least 45 years ago.
In which I bathe luxuriously in the shallow waters of gloating triumphalism. Because, for once, Australia did really shit at cricket.
Ten Ways to Irrevocably Mark Yourself as an Oddball at Work
In which I suggest ten ways to irrevocably mark yourself as an oddball at work.
Always a pleasure; rarely a chore. And ever-the-better for the role played by you.
Ho hum, here’s to a few hundred more!