I have precisely SEVEN MINUTES to write this blog post…

…or else run the risk of being officially classified as “on hiatus”. Again. More comebacks than Shirley Bassey, etc etc etc. As our dear late Princess Diana once said: Even I’m bored with it – and I’m in it!

(Not her precise words, but CBATG the Panorama transcript.)

At the end of my first full week back in Nottingham since February, I am still stuck at that annoying stage whereby I preface every sentence with “When I was in London…” Provincial life might require a certain period of readjustment, before I can stop giving badly dressed people snobby looks in the street (“When I was in London, no-one would have been seen DEAD like that”), and spitting with contempt every time I pass one of our many, many Greggs sandwich shops (“When I was in London, everyone ate CRAYFISH AND ROCKET”). But this will pass.

Got the afternoon off, so that we can get to Chatsworth House nice and early for tonight’s open air Jools Holland concert – I’m treating K and his parents, who got quite excited when they saw the posters the other week (we had made a special trip to see the lupins, which were simply magnificent my dear, like Shanghai at night, did I ever tell you about Shanghai, no, I rather think I didn’t). We’ll be stopping off at the Chatsworth Farm Shop along the way, to pick up a picnic from the almost overwhelmingly scrummy deli counter. It’s going to be fun, and God knows it’s time we all shared some fun together.

Belated but none the less sincere congratulations to Karen and Pete, by the way. I was there when they first met at a London blogmeet, when Bouncing Baby Bernard Uborka wasn’t so much as a speculative twinkle in his future parents’ eyes.

This has taken longer than seven minutes. I might now be hideously late, but AT LEAST I AM NOT ON SODDING HIATUS AGAIN. And that’s the most important thing, eh readers?

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