Oh dear reader. I'm tired. So I'm blogging. Why do I always want to blog when I'm tired? It's perverse, right? (Global comment. Expect more typos and grammatical faux pas than usual.) It's raining. Steady, soaking, let's-pretend-it's-winter rain. Somewhere it's a Cup Day. Melbourne? Bendigo? Kyneton? Moscow? Dunno. There are so many cups and so …
Why I closed the Scribbles Creative Writing Academy. (And why me and Bilbo Baggins are alike.)
