Clackety clack clack

Everthing seems like a good idea when you don't have to actually, you know, do anything about it doesn't it? This includes simple pleasures like opening a bottle, those drunken conversations where you decide you're going to move to South America to raise sheep and tomorrow you'll nut out the details or the vow that, yes really, you're going to start running every day. It's a bit like Jerry Seinfeld's very amusing bit about Night Guy always screwing over Morning Guy by not giving a shit about the consequences.

Anyway all this is a long-winded way of saying I have a new stupid plan, which is that I'll do an hour of proper writing before work each day. Brilliant, right? Sounds so easy. So efficient. So hard-working. Well yes, yes and yes. Yet today is the first morning of this plan: I'm still half asleep, I'm completely groggy and, far from the sort of writing I had planned, I'm blogging. Hmm. I'm tempted to handball this one back to After Work girl...