We (that’s me and the wife, not the royal plural) have decided that, what with the chisellers off school and all that, it’s time for the lot of us to have a few days away together, to recharge the batteries and what not. Okay, okay, I recognise that, after weeks of inactivity, these are the final few days leading up to our second championship outing of the Summer and that, no doubt, there will be the odd few morsels of news about the team that will need to be conveyed to the wider world.
In this context, I can reveal that I have a two-pronged strategy for dealing with the critical information need that will exist over the coming few days. One prong comprises my laptop and the availability of the wonderful Bitbuzz Wi–Fi service in the hideaway to which we’ll all be skedalling in a few hours time. The second is my adoption of a more staccato-like writing style, sort of like Ernest Hemingway (of whom it was said that his writing was like an iceberg, in that he only put in a fraction of what he wanted to convey, leaving the reader to do the rest) but without the bulls. Or maybe like Big Tom (no, not THAT Big Tom, THIS one). With his. Two word. Sentences, yeah.
Adios, compadres. There’s a. Car to. Pack, like.