This could be a whole new vehicle: the blog post that talks about how little the writer has to talk about.
In my defence I have just flown back from the U.S., on an overnight flight from Boston. A crying baby stopped me from getting the sleep I wanted on the plane, and the part of the trip from Heathrow to home took twice as long as it needed to. I did get a few hours sleep when I got home but as I sit here on Thursday evening my brain is an object lesson in mushness. It’s actually quite pleasant, just sitting here with my feet up letting food, drink, and TV wash over me, but it’s not the best state of mind for incisive blogging commentary.
In a way you should consider yourselves lucky that I’ve deigned to write anything at all!