At any one time I've got a long list of ideas (some sensible but many just plain daft) in a draft folder (there are around 30 there at the moment. Joy of joys for my readers). Every now and again, when I'm stuck for a theme, I'll take a look and see if there's anything there that is worth a little more work. The titles are minimal and sometimes I come across some that, at one time, must have seemed important. But now? Often the raison d'etre is lost in the mists of time. Here are some current examples to show what I mean.
Shame on you. Something about something that somebody else had done? Something I did that was wrong? Who knows.
One year-old birthday party. Whose? And what was so notable about it? Sorry, grandchild X, I've completely forgotten why it made my list.
Good grief. No, triple good grief. This one sounded interesting but, apart from the title, absolutely no clues to what was intended. Obviously a missed opportunity to vent my spleen.
Sockless in Gaza. Absolutely no idea about this one. Just the title to taunt me. Aldous Huxley? Haven't thought about him for years. Was it about Grandad Parsons time there in WW1? Maybe, but the moment has passed.
Did I ever tell you about.....? Obviously not because it's still in the draft folder. This could apply to so many things that strike me as worth bringing to the worlds' attention.
And now it's back to where this post started, Vicars' Todgers. This one dates from early last year and, prompted by an item on the news last week, I know exactly what I might have written about had I got round to it then. It's still topical (sort of) so it's time for a post entitled 'Vicars' Todgers'. Can you guess what it will be about? Watch this space for Vicars' Todgers Part 2.