It’s clear from this end that many of you at that end are going through the mill a bit. Miss B and Lee Roy have both noticed this, as has the Fluffster.

Some of you are fighting off assorted physical maladies. Infections that won’t go away, infections that have gone away but left you feeling crook. Chronic pain. All manner of things.

Some of you are wrestling demons. They may be long term demons you have to deal with every day, or little imps that have appeared suddenly in the form of self doubt, writer’s block. Don’t underestimate the seriousness of that. It’s a very unpleasant condition for writers, and not to be dismissed lightly.

Some of you, maybe more than you think, are just tired, exhausted. Plumb tuckered out, as Lee Roy puts it. The fuel warning light is flickering, and you’ve got to lift off the gas to conserve things till you can fill up again. If you think it’s just you on your ownsome feeling like this, let me disabuse you of that right now. I won’t condescend to you and tell you I know how you feel. Clearly I don’t. I do know how I feel when I get to that point, and it’s not at all healthy. That’s one reason I take Sunday as maid’s day off. Recharging time.

You were all very understanding and supportive when I had my rather public meltdown at the end of January, and it’s the least I can do to offer some support and best wishes to all of you who are in a jam just now. It’s not only me, either. There’s not a card big enough to carry the names of all those rooting for you over here in Blighty. The postage would cost a small fortune anyway.

There’s me, obviously, and Mr Fluffy/Commander Fluffy. Miss B. Lee Roy Fuckwit. Lee Roy Senior and Lulabelle. Ma and Pa Scruggs, and the boys Bubba, Dubba, and Hubba. Charlene, Darlene, and Marlene Flatt.

There’s Blain. Colin Treadwell. The dancing waitress. Taluleh Lafayette Dubois. Sunny. Gillian McConnell and Lance Grant. Jimmy and Estelle Cunningham. Matthew the driver. Even Mrs Theo Praxis, the nutjob. She’s on your side here.

Marc Zimmerframe and Professor Popkiss from the Large Hadron Collider. They want to sign up too. The Mexicans want in on the act, as does Madame Zsa Zsa, and Billy Two Rivers/Johnny No Mates. I would mention Kim Kardashian were it not for the futility of using her name and the words ‘concern for others’ in anything other than a surreal sense.

Then there’s an entire menagerie of animal well wishers. Snotbag the cat. A couple of nameless polar bears. At least one crocodile, one alligator, a cayman, a black mamba, several sharks, a rhinoceros, a sloth or two, gerbils, butterflies, bison, a pot bellied pig, and some alpacas, llamas, and guanacos. There’s a stoned hummingbird out there somewhere too, along with a lot of stunned pond fish. A giant clam. A dancing bear. And some Millwall supporters.

These are all characters you’ve welcomed with open arms, and minds, over the past seven and a half months or so. They all want you fit and well, and wish all of you who are flagging a bit a speedy recovery.

We’re not entirely altruistic over here, of course. After all, without you out there nobodysreadingus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note to my/our many newcomers. You’ll have guessed from this that I’m very loyal to my followers. You’ll get the same treatment if things go wrong for you in the future.

Just now, though, many if not all of the references will be lost on you. I’m afraid it’s time to hit Search again. Have fun!