It is now twenty years since the Queen had the year she famously described as an annus horibilis. Through the year the marriages of her children broke up, and a fire destroyed a substantial portion of Windsor Castle.
I have her words in mind at the moment, for this year seems to be shaping up as one I'd rather forget. The girl's getting no less noisy, my wife's not finding things easy at all, and to cap it all my dad's not at all well.
There are positive things to focus on, after all I'm in secure employment that I'm really enthused about. That really means something after a career as a dotcom survivor and in an era of economic turmoil. But wellbeing depends on personal as well as economic security, and I feel as though mine's taking a knock.
I think I may have a lot on my hands over the next few weeks. Not least taking on the temporary running of a herd of cattle. Minor publishing industry cog becomes unwilling farmer. Sadly the current generation of cows don't know me very well, the sods will no doubt play up. I'll have to bribe them with extra hay.
So if my muse stays absent for a while and I haven't got much to say, it'll be because I have a lot going on.