Last month I reported on what was, in the language of the office-slave, a ‘zero-task’ month. That is, nothing done, nothing tried, no goals set or met. Without labouring the point let’s just say June only exceeded May in the absolute depth of nothingness achieved.

The only task-master on my back (or monkey, I can’t seem to recall which one my muse assumes the form of) is my own good self, so I shouldn’t feel any guilt with no words being put down, particularly as the whole driver behind this is the pneumonia that I just can’t seem to shake, but the old black dog of impostor syndrome rises up from the depths to nip at my heels. ‘Heinlein didn’t suffer from this’ it barks as it tears into my shins, ‘And I’m damned sure Asimov never saw an unproductive day in his life’ it says smugly as I slump even further down. Lies for sure, I don’t think I’ve met a person whose never had a flat spot at some point, but it’s still hard to push back. No doubt I’ll be bouncing back one of these days, but until then I think I’m capable of making a cup of coffee and that’s about it.

So stay tuned, at some stage there’ll be something worthwhile here to read about progress. In the meantime there’s the wonderful world of delayed posts which, pending ability, lets me at least put something up aside from these tales of woe.