Febru Very Much

I thought I might add a little extra post to add to January's total. If I publish this it will make the sixteenth entry this month.

It's a pretty good total. Last January, I managed a paltry eight! To be fair, We were moving house/without the internet for most of it. But still. Eight? Surely I must have had more thoughts than that.

I suppose my brain has grown since then, and along with it my capacity for writing blogs. That's what separates us from the dinosaurs and the chimps.

There's no way a pteranodon could keep a consistent record of anecdotes. A monkey couldn't come up with surreal and slightly unsatisfactory flights of whimsy. Our brains are biggest and best. That's why we're the Kings of Earth (not counting the lion - his title is purely ceremonial).

I don't know if the brain does keep growing. Probably not. It probably reaches its peak size after puberty. After that it's just a long, repetitive grind.

I'd like my brain to grown consistently and rapidly, until it swelled like a balloon. I could ride a teetering bicycle, amusing passers-by. "There goes Paul Big-Brain," they'd shout with glee, as I careered into a florist's window, crushing some bracken.

I do worry that sixteen posts in January will set a dangerous precedent. After all, February only has twenty-eight days, so is already on a hiding to nothing. Maybe I should post this tomorrow, and give it a leg up.

But no.

I can't go second-guessing a month just because of its length. That's the kind of thing Hitler would do. Last February, I wrote fifteen entries! Even taking into account the extra leap-year day, it really demonstrates the flaw in Hitler's ideology.

We hold these truths to be self-evident: all months were created equal. Except Smarch. (Lousy Smarch weather...)

So, here's to you, February! You may be lacking in days, you may have an irritating, superfluous 'r', you may contain the festival of disappointment named Valentine's Day...

but you're family, and we love you.