I only normally blog about once a week, so having to think up something so soon as since friday is, like, durrr, really hard work.
Particularly as the sun is shining and my foot hurts and I realise that I sound like the 10 year old me trying to get out of being timed for the 100m. What an exercise in creativity that little evasion was. Years of excuses and fumbled lies.
Am also deeply stressed by having wasted a morning trying to load my son’s MP3 player. I realise that for NC and her horrid young friends this is not the sort of sentence they will understand. Son? what’s that. Difficulties with MP3 players? well you lot came out with the intstructions hard-wired in. Oldies have to work it out, and there’s only so much right clicking and Send To File that an oldie (with a bad foot, remember) can be expected to do. Had to settle with downloading everything onto my iPod to give him instead. So I will be stuck, forever, with The Ping Pong Song because there ain’t no way I’ll be able to do all that I’ve not done this morning, but in reverse.
So now it’s lie down time. I imagine that today’s youth understand all about that.
The Ping Pong Song? Is that an actual song?
yo, hi Robbie, yes it is, it’s by Enrique Inglesias and whether it is a damn fine piece of music or a ghastly irritant depends on whether you’re 11 or, er, slightly older.