Since I’ve just created this thing, I suppose I ought to write something now. Sadly however, I have nothing of import to impart. (Loving my wordplay there, you can so tell I’m a lyricist… *Basks in momentary self appreciation*) Look how pretty the picture is though. I’m mildly upset by how autumnal it looks, at a time when I’m feeling ridiculously summery, but it is very nice, isn’t it.

I really am in an optimistic summer groove at the moment. I keep mentioning the weather to people, and not even because I have nothing else to talk about! It’s a strange fact of life in England that really, the weather is often surprising enough to provoke genuine conversation on the topic. Anyway, my sunshiney happiness is currently slightly subdued due to rain, but it’s still shivering excitedly under the surface – I remain hopeful that we’re due at least another couple of days of suncream heat before winter hits.

Which brings me nicely to the subject of last weekend, which was beautifully sunny and warm (I have freckles where I don’t ever remember developing freckles before – nowhere inappropriate for public discussion though, don’t worry…), but which also meant two days of picnicking in Hyde Park, serenaded by the joyful sounds of Eric Clapton, John Mayer (what a legend, sorry Claire), Jason Mraz, KT Tunstall, Scott McKeon, Sheryl Crow, the Bangles and most exciting of all – THE POLICE!!! Possibly the most exciting 48 hours I have ever experienced. And for the record, I don’t tend to go for older (well, old) men, but if I did, Sting would top the list. (The list of old-yet-attractive men that is; he certainly wouldn’t usurp James McAvoy, who has the advantage in youth and beauty and certainly in accent.)

I digress. The Police absolutely rule. I’m devastated that they’re never playing in the UK again (but equally delighted that I was at their final gig), and am now overwhelmed by a deep urge to purchase their entire back catalogue.

For someone who didn’t have anything to say, this is a long post. It shall now be ended.