Poor Mr Blogs

An empty chair, blank screen, cancelled meetings.

Yes Mr Blogs has left the building. Poor Joe was up all night with toothache then he had to leave the studio and go home to bed.

Even the World's Greatest Poet wrote about the 'pleasures' of toothache.

My curse upon your venom'd stang,
That shoots my tortur'd gums alang,
An' thro' my lug gies mony a twang,
Wi' gnawing vengeance,
Tearing my nerves wi' bitter pang,
Like racking engines!

No more Mint Balls for him methinks!