As the email thudded into my inbox, with all the alacrity of a Steinway falling from the fifth floor, my heart began to sink. "Surely it's not that time of the year again?" I asked aloud.
Katie, reclining on the other sofa, Tanqueray & tonic in hand, raised a quizzical eyebrow as I allowed the full gravity of the situation to sink in. And wash over me.
If gravity can wash, that is.
"Problem?" she asked, not breaking away from her latest edition of Cake Weekly.
"You do know what next month is, don't you?"
"Well, yes, November. But it's more than that. You see, I've just had this email reminder. A blast from the past, you might say. And..."
"Do you remember what happened last November?"
"At a guess, fireworks, chilblains and retail devastation in advance of Christmas..."
"Thanks, but I tried that gag last year, too. It's National Blog Posting Month. You remember?"
She sat up: "Oh, hang on, it's all coming back to me now, like a three-day-old Biryani. You have to write one blog post per day for the whole month of November. It's a law. Or something."
"Well, more of a challenge. And thanks for the Biryani thing - that's a really unpleasant image. Anyway, I'm worried about it."
"Because recently you've let things slide, making do with eight or nine posts per month?"
"And now you're going to have to get your finger out and write something new every day?"
"Hang on minute," she said, putting down her magazine, "are we actually having this conversation just now?"
"What do you mean?"
"Or is this a simply a narrative device you're going to use; to introduce NaBloPoMo to your readers, explain what it is, that you're going to try and do a post-per-day next month and how you're crapping yourself at the idea?"
"The very thought..."