I have just been through my stats and discovered that 2 people found me yesterday - well done them. I didn't need to look up the records of course - I had sat in the confessional for hours listening to them drone on about their problems and ambitions and all that sort of drivel and neither of them bothered to leave a 'thank you' on the way out. Anyway, my opinion that regular commentators are, let us say, ..........challenged, was confirmed! (It's more likely that your charming, highly intelligent and may I say, kindly contributors took the opportunity of a bit of peace and quiet. Lo, TG Ed.)
[I was in sculptures by the way - if you had used an ounce of sense, you would have worked out that looking at 'recent entries' might give you a clue. I was only one click away].

Anyway, to more pressing matters.
I was not drawn out of the sorting hat at Big Blogger. Penfold was. I have my suspicions that ageism is rearing it's ugly head but I have no proof.

Being a good boy scout I had made some rather expensive preparations for possible incarceration:
1] I bought several pairs of odour eaters. These would have been for the benefit of fellow inmates. My feet have been discussed before but I do have another problem that hasn't been mentioned. Suffice to say, I have discovered that if I stuff an odour eater down the back of my pants, it filters and muffles. (Always this need to share. Lo, TG Ed.)
2] I went to see my solicitor for some advice, as I would have been in a very public position. She charges by the hour or part of the hour and after waffling on for exactly 61 minutes the only thing she could come with was "It would probably be best to avoid any reference to Indian food".
3] My biggest concern was separation from Lo, she is a terrible Goddess. After intensive research on the interweave I found the Babble Fish. This is similar to a Babel Fish in that it gets inserted into your head, but it's function is different. It allows the wearer direct and secret communication to their editor for advice on spelling, syntax and babbling. I have had one fitted. I was going to go to a Harley Street doctor for the operation but the cost would have been astronomic so I went to a Harley Davidson dealership instead and had it fitted by one of their engineers for a cash deal. It's been very useful already. I can hear the TG shouting at me even if I'm shopping. Fortunately it's got an off button. (Modifications are in hand. Lo, TG Ed.)

Apart from these unnecessary costs, I'm not too disappointed. The TG has suggested that I could play along. She has said she would have no objection whatsoever if I locked myself in the shed for eight weeks. (True. Lo, TG Ed.) I could even call her Big Bertha. (I wouldn't if I were you. Lo, TG Ed.) I pointed out that the new owners of Papersurfer Manor might object if I was living in the shed when they moved in but she only shrugged.
My favourite magazine.
Anyway, good luck to all the bloggers going into the house - may your descent into insanity be painful painless and rapid.