The Saturation Point of Bells

I probably owe you an explanation. But you're not going to get one.


There are some blog names that are so self-evidently right that not an iota of explanation is necessary. Take Hackpacker, for example. Now there you have a name that is neat and taut and witty and completely fit for purpose. I have but mentioned the word and off you go positively tingling with a soon-to-be-fulfilled expectation of the pleasures you will find when you mosey on by (which you should, by the way).


Alas, I can offer nothing so deftly apt.


At this moment, though, I would like to tell you that the storm clouds are getting angry behind the bridge and turning the harbour a shiny electric grey, boding well for a spectacular sunset. The sun still shines, though, making the little row of pink, purple, white and red spinnakers that are sailing past my borrowed window glow like birthday balloons.


It is beatiful here, and you gotta love a desk that requires sunglasses.