Alright. I've been neglectful.

The last time I wrote here, it was May. It is now late July, and while I would love nothing more than to claim to have been whisked away from blogging by some fascinating, adventurous and slightly dangerous diversion, I can't. I can't even claim something commonplace but legitimate, like study or a death in the family. Really I've just been terribly lazy. That's not to say I haven't found things to fill the time otherwise:

A Game of Thrones - both the TV series and, to a lesser extent, the books. That sounds wrong, doesn't it? Moving pictures before the written word. It probably is. I don't care. It's that good.

Fallout 3. I'm kind of working backwards with these games. I started out with New Vegas at the start of the year, and I've only just gotten my hands on Fallout 3, but it is most excellent. I've been playing it for three days or so, and they've been punctuated by nights filled with dreams of the Capital Wasteland. 

Series 6 of Doctor Who. Of course. I await the upcoming Hitler episode with pleasantly squirmy anticipation.

Sherlock. I knew before I even started watching this show that I was going to love it with the fiery passion of a thousand suns, and I was right. True, the whole 'quirky/rude but incredibly intelligent investigator' thing is a bit overdone these days - House and The Mentalist spring to mind - but let's face it, Sherlock was the original, and the modernity of this reboot does nothing to detract from his brilliance. 

It doesn't hurt that Martin Freeman is made of kittens, and Benedict Cumberbatch is tall, dark and well dressed - and that voice. Come to think of it, that name.

Dirty, dirty girls, indeed.

You probably now have the impression that I'm basically incapable of tearing myself away from the TV. And you might be right. But in my defence, there has been snow and illness to keep me indoors. Judge not lest ye be judged, and all that.

I regret nothing.