Well, there you go. Or, on the other hand there you stay, unless, well, you have found some sort of state of existence that exists between movement and stasis, which would I would presume be a bit of a bugger to maintain, especially with all that excess strain on the upper thigh muscles, to say nothing of the problems of maintaining the necessary close contact between yourself and your sandwich of choice.
Still, as they say, you can't butter Rome in a day. Or – for that matter count your chickens without recourse to some sort of numbering system.
So, here we are then. I suppose you are expecting something, if not quite pithy, apt and erudite about one of the subjects of the moment, something at least mildly diverting which doesn't bang on too much about the penguins, or mention cheese in a way the author finds - for some odd reason – quite humorous.
You never know with him though, do you?
It has been known for him to witter away for a whole blog post about nothing in particular without coming to much of a conclusion and/or point. Sometimes he's even been known to just stop right in the middle of a....
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