I've never written a blog before, so as you can probably imagine I'm not entirely sure how long I can drone on for before I'm branded a crashing bore. I suppose if you've got as far as this second sentence, I'm doing relatively well.
I've been meaning to start a blog for quite some time now, but most of the time I'm too busy eating bad food (according to my mother, mayonnaise sandwiches aren't all that common) and pressing the refresh button on my myspace home page (of which I have since ceased usage). I love the idea of a diary that strangers can comment on. I can roll out all my thoughts on to the interweb and anyone with the patience to read it can tell me whether I'm an emotionally unstable basket case, an ignorant and deluded prick or indeed just a crashing bore. Not to mention the fact that I could, in some way benefit from it myself. I'm sixteen years old. From what I've heard, diaries are purported to aid cognitive development in teens. Or something like that, anyway.
Before I go to bed tonight, I'm going to make myself a nice, warm bowl of Weetabix and dollop some honey on it. It was earlier today that I realised that I'd never even tried Weetabix, which is shameful for someone as proudly British as myself.
That's all for now, anyway. I'll write more when I run out of mayonnaise.
