I have Ewan to thank for this bit of nonsense - if I'm insufficiently mature for trad grannying, he's not altogether the trad new dad, though I must add that he's doing this job with the same swift efficiency that he displays in other areas of life. But addicted to blogging? I'd say rather that I'm addicted to communication and self-expression, and blogging still does the trick as far as that's concerned. Actually, I had to force myself to publish this post - or any other - because it means pushing Catriona down the page; I must be shifting allegiance!
On the same tack, I felt compelled to submit an entry for the Sunday Herald competition for blog entries on the subject of modern Scotland. I didn't really think the exemplars they gave came across as either blog posts or brilliant, and the topic title was uninspiring and truly uncatchy, but there you are. I was seduced - and that just before my Cursillo weekend.
Writing this has, bizarrely, reminded me that I have a bill to pay - because my competition entry began in the local print shop. I owe them thirty quid. Forget further addiction and get on with it.
And yes: if you do as my heading suggests you get ... groggy.
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