An Apology

As any lawyer or politician will tell you, an apology is an admission of guilt. So here it is; an apology. This is my admission of guilt. I'm guilty. I'm a terrible liar. A rotten scoundrel bent on pulling the dreaded, murky, sodden wool of deceit over your little eyes. It was so easy and yet I feel so bad.

I promised you I would write on here more. I didn't. I'm a fraud. I can't help it. I'm busy and have nothing worthwhile to say that you can't find out anyway. But that's no excuse, is it? It hardly removes the agonising, gnawing feeling that I have told whopping great heartless fibs to the world for all to see.

The fact of the matter is: I can't write on here more. I'm too lazy. And stubborn. But mostly lazy. So I'm afraid I can't promise anything this time. Except I'll try not to lie to you again. Unless I have to. But if I do because I have to it will be to protect you from something with my love; the suffocating love of an overcompensating parent. You are my little kittens and I'll protect you. And if the best way to protect you little kittens is to wrap you in a bin bag and throw you in the river with a brick, then so be it. I'll do whatever it takes!