For the next couple of weeks or so I suspect this ‘place’ is going to be the on-line equivalent of that old lady’s house near you with all the milk bottles stacking up outside, the pile of circulars and free newspapers under the letter box in the hall, and all those fat rodents and unpleasant smells coming out of the cat-flap.
Do not break in- you’ll find a nasty surprise awaits. Chances are I’m not dead and you’re bound to feel let down. Any untoward odours and lack of care of the premises are much more likely to be down to me putting hygiene on a back burner as a deadline approaches.
If, by some fluke, I am dead, it bears repeating that I wish my passing to be marked in a local newspaper’s badly demarcated Births, Marriages and Deaths columns by a photo of me grinning as a child accompanied by the caption “Look Who’s Dead Today!”. Religiose doggerel is optional, no stopping by request.
It’s always possible I’ll just be on holiday of course, but, as some of you know where I live, I’d never reveal that here if it were the case. Oh no.
Besides, if I were on holiday, not in, busy, smelly and belligerent as you’d be far better advised to think really, I’d be bound to have laid traps...