I am now in front of my computer, having finished the last on the list of today's jobs before our relentless weekend of fun and 40ths and weddings and shipping the kids off and the mother in and the dog out.
My youngest is here with me, chatting away watching me buy the gift for the above-mentioned wedding.
After doing that I decided to look in on this blog, and show him what it is and a tiny weeny bit of what I write here.
He asked if he could do a tiny blog too.
So here it is, typed by me, his devoted secretary:
*we just had a small row about me typing it, and agreeing that he could type his name*
I want to write about my brother. I get to play rugby with him. That's mainly all I want to say.
Playing football with my brother makes me happy.
*Mummy just asked if I have a message to say to anyone who comes to read about us here*
I really want to type my name now.
*Mummy says I have to do a little message and then I can type*
Wait a minute, my brother just came in.
*Mummy is asking him if he has a message having just been shown that this blog exists - for the record, Mummy may well regret showing them this...let's see*
*With some prompting we say*
Thank you for reading about us, sort of, it's a bit weird but
*this next bit is kind of written by me*
Mummy hopes that we trust her to not say too many embarrassing things.
*time to sign now - just had to tell them I don't use their full names, so they have plumped for initials*
*they want the dog's initials too*
*preview shown, they aren't that excited, which is good*
Publish and goodnight