Lights on, no one at home….

Posts have been thin to non-existent recently. Mainly because I’ve been feeling a little bit ‘wrrrrrrr’ and a little bit ‘gahhhhhh’ over the past few days. Laid low with blinding headaches, nausea and a distinct feeling that Stabby-Stan from Daggerthorpe was in residence just behind my right eye. The little git has been gouging away with his stabbing tools for all he was worth. Stabby stab, stabby stab, stabby. So much so that me old pals Pendle Witch, Bombardier and Cain’s Cask have had to go on a bit of a temperance sabbatical. Tuesday night was the worse – I took my eldest Son back to Chester – and drove the whole 80-mile round trip in the darkest glasses I could find…. at 10 o’clock at night. Today I’m feeling a lot better – and hopefully the headaches, nausea and Stabby have gone for good.

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear….

I’ve been left a few comments lately in reaction to some of my more contentious posts with the prefix ‘Oh dear’.

What does that mean then? ‘Oh dear’ ….. It’s beginning to bug me a bit. It sort of comes over a bit superior-like – or maybe a bit sanctimonious perhaps? It’s like a pat on a kid’s head from an adult…. "Oh dear – never mind, your mental faculties aren’t quite up to the mark"…..

Presumably it’s intended as a bit of a mild putdown from a brain of a planet bohemian. Maybe it’s the sort of thing Oscar Wilde might have said of one of his contemporaries. "Oh dear Mr Bernard-Shaw, you’re such a beardy-weirdy tosser".

I must remember, next time I need to dig out the ultimate literary equivalent of a roll of the eyes and a shake of the head – from the masters of quick wit and ready repartee… well, it’s got to be ‘Oh dear’….

Yup. Prose perfect.