My blog almost died there. I don't know what happened, it wasn't like there wasn't anything to write about, there was loads, maybe that was the problem. Perhaps if I spent less time smooching and more time being an internet nerd I would have done something about it sooner. Or perhaps it was the post-party depression I fell into after the Fabulous English Wedding Weekend when I distinguished myself by breaking the bride's bouquet outside the church (as we were introduced), lost my phone in a field, discovered that I am crap at 'fistipunch' and altogether had a weekend that's going to be hard to beat this summer. Even though, or maybe because, we had to push the campervan off the ferry in Rosslare.
The good news for my (three to five) fans is that I'm off to Iceland for a month soon. To a place far far away where the only things to do are: use the internet, sit in the hot tub and ... and worry about the onset of the dreaded Valley, I mean Walley, Fever.
