The weather was surely to blame, this is London after all, the weather and the very grumpy old dude in control of it are the first to blame for ANYthing (train delays, alcohol consumption, the credit crisis - "it's just been sooo cold lately we had to live it up a bit and take crazy stupid risks with no regard to their consequences!", divorce - "Honey, I'm sorry but it was really hot and she was sun-bathing by the side of the street and I suddenly turned into a Latin God", you get the picture). I've also remained in my animal-state when it comes to light and the day's activities while my fellow humans managed to evolve and come up with a fantastic little thing called 'electricity'. The moment it gets dark outside I find it impossible to get anything useful done (yes, even with the lights on) and crash out with a tea and a mag on my sofa (it's just right next to me desk, how can I resist?) As the list grew so did an overwhelming feeling that I won't be able to catch up (ironic, of course, because the more I had to catch up with the more impossible it became to do so).
In the end, the doctor's diagnosis is a general confusion over this blog and its purpose in its little digital life, which I'm sure is typical and will resolve itself - once I get back on the damn thing and start typing. Anything. Like I've done here, see? Cured! Off we go.
By the way, this post's title is also reffering to the charming movie of the same title I saw this weekend with Sir Michael Caine, God Bless you Sir, and the adorable little boy from 'Son of Rambow', Bill Milner. Sir Michael as a bereaved old magician, a kid that lives in an old people's home and a bunch of oldies? Masterpiece!