We are still here on our lengthy vigil for the cakes that have yet to reach us. Meanwhile, struggling on, we make our own, wonky though they may be.
The above is a 9th birthday nest, but I should have made it in the shape of a lone frail tree, faltering in the forest. Why?, you politely ask. It is because I sense that the dear old amateur lifestyle blogging community is losing its fizz.
No one, now, proudly shows off their low-carbohydrate courgette spaghetti. Chairs sit round, un-reupholstered. Nothing is painted a milky shade of grey. Everyone is too busy following their desk exercise regime to note that they saw a sparrow in the east this morning, and liken it to Jesus.
People have decamped to other rides in the great social media funfair, rides that are faster and shinier and where there is a promise of coins, or at least a fake watch or a small teddy. A stern, chill wind blows across our collective refurbished verandah.