to someone about blogs and they were really sniffy. What, an online diary? Why would anyone in their right mind wish to do such a thing? Upper lip curled in sneer. Gaze skiing down aquiline nose trailing parallel lines of contempt.
It's fairly straightforward I said, personally I write a blog for whimsical reasons ocassionally political reasons and sometimes just because I can. I likened blogging to a message in a bottle which is then cast into the ether. As this explanation gathered pace my utilitarian cohort even more began to resemble Count Olaf, he of the high forehead and all seeing eye. Or perhaps it was Thomas Gradgrind from Dickens' Hard Times, a man to whom the only thing that mattered was the facts. No amount of lyricism could persuade her that blogging was a useful activity, no flights of fancy.
Miserable get. On dark nights I've noticed more than once the street lights dim as she passes. Hardly surprising.
No comments:
Post a Comment