To the four people who claimed to notice, I apologise for not updating this rubbish for a whole week. But, quite frankly, I couldn't be arsed.
Actually, I'm being a touch simplistic.
You will probably have spotted that there's been little or no good news around for the past seven days and, at times, a paucity of basic human decency. The joyous parties held to celebrate the death of an 87-year-old mother and widow with dementia particularly wound me up, even though I was no great fan of the woman.
On top of this, a succession of my friends have had various pieces of personal misfortune thrust upon them, which haven't helped me in my quest to get all happy.
But we are where we are and, by continuing to churn out this guff, perhaps I can add an occasional smile to their faces.
And a smile was certainly writ large across my face last Sunday when our pals Fran and Matt brought Baby Freddie over to taste my meat.
I'll rephrase that, "to sample one of my famous roast dinners." Better? Good.
But it wasn't the smell of my pork (sorry) that made me smile so much. Hell no. It was Fran's contribution to proceedings.
She only went and baked a Guinness cake!
Now there's a fine example of human decency if ever I saw one.
Unfortunately the Guinness cake itself can no longer be seen. Because we ate it.