I FIND NOTHING TO GO ON ABOUT

Ah Friday. The sun is out, the air carries the first notes of Spring and hope blossoms at the thought of two days off.

I've finished a week of technical authoring and writing snobby music reviews, so it's now time for me to go on for far too long about something else.

Let's see now. Punctuation? Grammar? Nah - too passé. Plus you all know my views on whether you can say "I am sat" instead of "I am sitting". There are some excellent books to help you with that, and they're much more eloquent than I am.

Tea then? Milk first if you're using a pot. It hardly matters if you're not. That's all there is on that.

Sport? Current affairs? People's attitudes to travellers? We have some caravans parked by the station again. Louise told me that most Irish travellers have their own houses in Ireland, which I found close to unbelievable.

How about the constantly broken Nestle 3000 sitting in the kitchen with permanently clogged-up chocolate pipes?

Then there's Louise coming back from the masseur having had her shoes massaged by accident? That's pretty much the whole story there, though I'm still not sure I understand what happened.

Or what about Rory McIlory claiming he was inspired by Nelson Mandela?

This was an in interview I read, with pupils from his old school. He came across as quite witty and prosaic. He told them that he didn't remember much from school trips other than the fun he had with his mates.

It's funny how, even in the most intense and serious times, we remember our social interactions the most. I couldn't tell you who was the best at Scrabble Outside the Staffroom, but I remember how funny it was winding up Randip.

I could go on about global politics! Ah, wait. I promised the world I wouldn't do that. Besides, let's not ruin this sunny afternoon. And anyway, the airwaves are jampacked with discussion about which characters from the muppets should have their felty fingers on nuclear buttons. You don't need my tuppence worth.

So, that leaves us I think, with the science of bubbles in water, the risibly complicated process of paying your council tax online, and the emotional impact of badly-worded emails.

You know what, I think I'll just walk home and enjoy the sunshine.