Well here's a problem.  For the past few days I've been attempting to continue with Book Four, but I have happened upon what I call a slight hindrance.  It isn't writer's block, of course, since if ever I were to experience such a thing I'd merely write a story about it.  Rather this is some trickery of the mind.  Allow me to explain further.  I keep seeing sausage rolls, cheesy footballs and cakes, where instead there should be a computer desk, a keyboard and a monitor.  This may sound a little odd, but I'm currently writing this blog on a huge slice of turkey spattered with cranberry sauce.  I see food and drink everywhere, and I don't believe these sights will cease until Christmas has finished, or until ... oh no, here I go again to Puddlefish:
  
Strange; each corridor in Mackerel's Wash appears to breathe.They expand and contract, and then growing apertures appear in the walls that permit me access to stairways made from dorsal fins generously coated in batter.I've just entered a room full of fish-like folk garbed in boot laces, and who are exhaling noisily in gutteral stutters.Upon mentioning the words "Yule Chocolate log", one of them has shifted forward; it appears as though it may speak ...




... And I'm back again. 


Merry Christmas everyone.