D'you ever get a feeling that someone is watching you? I did today. Problem is...there was nobody there.

I was washing dishes at the house we've been working on. I wanted a change, and I'm certain that (e:leetee) must be fed up with being elbow deep in soapy water by now. So, there I was, happily washing dishes while (e:leetee) and (e:heidismadhouse) were downstairs doing other estate sale preparation stuff, when I suddenly got the feeling that there was someone behind me.....watching! I turned, as you do, to see who was there. And there in the doorway to the attic was a figure....a woman in a white nightgown. As I looked at her she just disappeared.

There was no sound. She didn't turn and walk away. She just was there one moment....then she wasn't. And there was no way I was going up into that dark attic to see if she was up there.

No, I bravely left my dish washing duties and ran downstairs. I didn't run away you understand. No, I wanted to make sure that the women folk were safe.........yeah, right!

I think that tomorrow we will be working together...all in the same room. If one of us has to go to a different part of the house, then we'll all go....

Funny thing is, none of us really believe in all that gobble-de-gook.....

I wish Rochester was a bit closer to Buffalo. There's an English pub there y'see, it's called The Old Toad (great name for a pub), and they're having a Yorkshire week at the beginning of May.

Well, as a Yorkshireman I consider it to be my duty to be there flying the flag for those of us Tykes on this side of the pond. Trouble is that if I go there I'd have to drink some of that lovely Yorkshire beer that they'll be selling. I understand that they're going to have some Black Sheep on tap, and I haven't tasted that particular delight for many many years. In fact I believe that the last time I partook of a pint of that fine ale was in 1990 when I went with a few friends to the Black Sheep brewery at Masham as we were heading over to Whitby on our motorcycles. I seem to remember that we never got to Whitby that day, in fact I seem to remember waking up the following morning in a field with a hangover that you could hang a hat on...but I digress...

A visit to The Old Toad would mean a night of drunken merrymaking, and would have to include an overnight stay in a hotel (I don't drink and drive, I'm not that dumb) so, as that's not possible I will probably have to give it a miss.

Ah well, I'll just have to wait for my next visit home to England. I am due to become a grandad at the end of May, and I have every intention of getting back home to welcome the baby to planet Earth. I have a feeling that I will be drinking a pint or three during that visit...

(tap...tap...tap...) is this thing on? Can you 'ear me mother?

The Internet's a funny place. You think you know your way around, think you have a pretty good idea what's on and what's where and all that. Then, out of the blue, someone comes along and tells you that there's a web site where people round here can post their innermost thoughts...and images...and sounds...and stuff.........

How can I not have ever heard of this place before? Do I live in a bubble? Apparently I must - there's no other answer.

So, from here in my comfortable little bubble I write. Nothing I have to say will shake your world. This will not be a life changing experience for you, dear reader. But perhaps my occasional input will be read by a few of you, and that in itself is enough. It will mean I'm not dead yet, and that I am not the only one to realize this. Whether or not I am still drawing breath may not mean a whole lot to you, but as I sit here staring the 50th anniversary of my arrival on planet Earth squarely in the face it bothers me slightly.

40 seemed like an awfully big number ten years ago. On April 30th 1997 I felt very old. Very old indeed. No longer could I pretend to be a young man. I was old, and I had that big number to prove it. But now...now I realize how young forty is. I look at those mere children in their forties and realize how foolish I was to believe I was over the hill at such a tender age. No, forty is nothing to be scared of, but fifty...that's a different matter altogether...

But wait....taking my previous statement to it's logical conclusion, all I must do is wait another ten years to understand how young I am right now...

I feel better already......

And that, dear reader, is all I have to say right now. You seem to have a very nice place here. I will be back...