Hell. Here we go again.

Into another year of blogging then. It's been the annual fight with myself and my enthusiasm to decide whether I can actually be bothered to keep this thing going into yet another calendar year.
And yet, here I am.
I suppose (good for me, but bad for you) that this does give me an outlet for my darkest thoughts and weirdest wonderments, and that spilling them here stops me forcing them upon the wider general public while I'm out and about in my daily life.
And it does give me a little thrill when I access The Chesworth Chronicles online and see YET ANOTHER year on the list of those available to look at.
So, I suppose what I'm saying is, I'm going to carry on.

My New Year's Eve was a bit of a non-event, so I hope you weren't expecting to read tales of drunken debauchery and sexual shenanigans because they just didn't happen. It was tiredness, a few snacks, lemon and ginger tea and saying goodnight to Philippa just after 10 because she was exhausted and wanted a sensible bedtime. She's had to do rather a lot of extra parenting over the past week because my lovely chest infection thing really did knock me out at times. I'm determined to have a replacement Christmas later in January, to make up for this shitshow of a week that I've been inflicting on everyone around me. I mean, to be fair, it's not as if I completely ruined everything, and I was able to actively participate throughout, but I couldn't give it my all and I couldn't enjoy everything that was on offer, so why not give it another go in another few weeks and help pass the Winter coldness with a rerun?
Exactly....

RC 1-1-24