David Davis
Fact is, we are all rather tied up at present. I am trying to tidy my library: Fred Bloggs is revising for exams: Peter Davis is playing cello in Dublin. Steven Northwood is probably in the pub, which is sound, and can’t access us on his sub-etheric-communicator. I’m not entirely sure what Sean Gabb is up to as we speak, but it probably is constructive as usual. Michael is punching pigs in his pasture-lands. (One followed him unexpectedly into a ditch, in a vertical sense, the other week. The pig lived: no free-range pigs were harmed in his unplanned fall.)
We do have several other bloggers on the establishment, but they “pretend to not know us”: before the cock crows twice, they will have denied us thrice..it went something like that, didn’t it, on that fateful Friday Morning. But we do love them really. They know who they are.
Normal blogging will be resumed asap. Perhaps even as soon as tomorrow.
