Honourably swamped

It seems that I have won a prize for my blogging. A blogging prize, no less. No, not that one - since, in case you hadn’t noticed, although I may have behaved like quite the dirty little tart before the event, I have not said a word about it since. So it’s not the award that dare not speak its name, but rather a Swampy for being best blog in the entire known universe during the month of January. Of course, being of a contrary and sometimes downright awkward disposition, I would argue that there wasn’t a lot to do in January apart from stay indoors and read blogs. And I had one hell of a lot of verbiage that I needed to get out of my system during those thirty-one days, too. So maybe it’s understandable. Maybe.

The Swampys are bestowed upon deserving bloggers - and on this occasion, apparently upon me - by Timbo of Timboblog fame. In his speech to the Academy - er, I mean, his post - he waxes lyrical about An Unreliable Witness with the same overabundance of words that I would recklessly let go to waste writing an entry on graffiti or fire escapes or my bedroom wall, to quote but three pointless examples. So he is to be congratulated on that achievement, as well as for having made me blush to an almost worrying depth of redness whilst I read his eulogy. (Not that I’m dead, you understand, merely temporarily stunned). I’m not going to quote any of his very kind words here, because I’m far too embarrassed. Go and look for yourself.

I would like to thank Timbo, all of you who continue to bother with this humble excuse for three blogs, and God. In that order. Leaving the Almighty until last means that I’m bound to, er, almightily piss Him off, and I will probably end up getting struck down by a vengeful bolt of lightning before the day is done. I consider that a risk worth taking.

Related but unrelated link: this is what my style guru (as if I have one of those) has suggested I wear once the seasonally adjusted temperatures become a little more clement. And yes, of course I’m speaking with my mouth crammed full of a large portion of irony. It’s just a shame that, perhaps significantly, the mens’ sizes are currently almost all sold out.