If you hate those sort of wearisome, self-pitying blogs where you want to strangle the writer for wanting attention and wallowing in some self pity then I’d click off this now, and go do something else. For those still reading, I hope you share some of my pitiful moaning.
This year there was a plan by myself where I’d not only attend San Diego Comic Con with some friends, but would have done a road trip across the US after meeting up with Andrew Hope in New York, or his home in Minnesota. It was a trip I’d been planning in my head since I was probably a teenager, but sadly last year things went tits up and plans were cancelled.
San Diego Comic Con opens in just a few hours and I wish I was there. Not even watching John Barrowman murder the gift of singing and braw lassies dressed as Tunnocks Teacakes in the opening ceremony of the Commonwealth Games in Glasgow is completely shaking my misery.
Well, maybe just a wee bit……..