Words of a forlorn, taking-the-mick Tube conductor broadcasting random sentiments over the train’s comms system on my way home: "You don't write, you don't text, you don't phone, you just treat us like a hotel, coming and going…coming and going…coming and going…"

Echoing the Tube conductor, I have been castigated by some of you for not being 'on air'...well the blog did sit empty for some months. I hearby apologise for this period of radio blackout. I have been quite consumed by work, most of my whacky creative juice being sapped by it, having to be heavily invested in ingeniously wheedling my way out of sticky situations that I…

Managed to drop myself in…

Surfed a bit like my Aunty George on his Malibu at Byron Bay…

And then got spectacularly dumped...

Tube conductor: "Next, Putney Bridge, it's really Putney, but just near the ahhh, errmmm... bridge."

And I also have to confess being reticent to posting bits of me - could get too close to the truth. We're so content to hide behind all the noise of our generation - radio, tv, and now the internet to act as a filter between ourselves and the next human being. I resent the barrage of work email which rudely demands to be dealt with instantly. What's wrong with real relationships - actually bothering to walk across the office to politely inquire of our colleagues? It's a novel concept now - interacting in human form.

Tube conductor: "Next, Southfields where loads of you get off. Where do you go to?"

Good question, Mr Conductor. Where do we go to? I am indeed still loving life and rockin’ out with the Anglicans on the other side of the globe from where I was 6 months ago, but I would much rather be sitting across from you - the old fashioned way - talking face to face.

Life really is absurd and hilarious, especially when your Tube conductor is mouthy.