Blogging...
It's a funny old thing, blogging. Except it's not that told. Nor, generally, are blogs funny - especially those which are meant to be.
Anyway, in the past I've tried and failed to maintain a blog. Maybe some of you even read one of them. I doubt it. Noone did. But I guess that's the point with blogs isn't it? I'm not writing it for you to read, nor am I writing it for me to read. I'm writing it because I can.
So, as yet I have absolutely no idea what I shall put into my blog, but time will shape that, I'm sure.
On the internet, I think there's a choice to be made. You can either put a picture of yourself, some contact details and then write a blog. But if you choose to do this, you accept that anyone who knows you could potentially find your blog and read everything you've written. And "anyone" could include "grandmother" "family of your partner" or "the Queen" so one has to watch one's language, doesn't one?
Of course, the other option is to make up a false name, put up a photo you found of someone else claiming it to be yourself, then write anything you want, safe in the knowledge that noone will ever track you down. Of course they won't.
At this point, I feel I should acknowledge the fact that it's pefectly possible to do both of the above by having two online profiles. But the potential for typing into the wrong one is just too great to contemplate there, really.
Anyway, blogging, that's what I was talking about.
My life really isn't exciting. It's a pretty normal life which I lead mostly in London, but also fairly often outside London too. But I think even within a normal life, there are interesting things to be pulled out and looked at under the microscope of the blog. Whether of course I am adept enough at pulling out such things is an exercise for the reader, but I shall certainly try.
As you can see by now, I'm very much a "stream of consciousness" writer. That is a posh way of saying "I don't really have a plan, I just sit at the keyboard and type until I get bored". In the same way people who can't really paint can describe their work as "naïf" in the hope that people will think that the meaningless daub is actually the product of an artistic mind. Maybe if I describe this blog as "naïf" people will see it as art rather than twaddle. Maybe. Maybe not.
Anyway, in the past I've tried and failed to maintain a blog. Maybe some of you even read one of them. I doubt it. Noone did. But I guess that's the point with blogs isn't it? I'm not writing it for you to read, nor am I writing it for me to read. I'm writing it because I can.
So, as yet I have absolutely no idea what I shall put into my blog, but time will shape that, I'm sure.
On the internet, I think there's a choice to be made. You can either put a picture of yourself, some contact details and then write a blog. But if you choose to do this, you accept that anyone who knows you could potentially find your blog and read everything you've written. And "anyone" could include "grandmother" "family of your partner" or "the Queen" so one has to watch one's language, doesn't one?
Of course, the other option is to make up a false name, put up a photo you found of someone else claiming it to be yourself, then write anything you want, safe in the knowledge that noone will ever track you down. Of course they won't.
At this point, I feel I should acknowledge the fact that it's pefectly possible to do both of the above by having two online profiles. But the potential for typing into the wrong one is just too great to contemplate there, really.
Anyway, blogging, that's what I was talking about.
My life really isn't exciting. It's a pretty normal life which I lead mostly in London, but also fairly often outside London too. But I think even within a normal life, there are interesting things to be pulled out and looked at under the microscope of the blog. Whether of course I am adept enough at pulling out such things is an exercise for the reader, but I shall certainly try.
As you can see by now, I'm very much a "stream of consciousness" writer. That is a posh way of saying "I don't really have a plan, I just sit at the keyboard and type until I get bored". In the same way people who can't really paint can describe their work as "naïf" in the hope that people will think that the meaningless daub is actually the product of an artistic mind. Maybe if I describe this blog as "naïf" people will see it as art rather than twaddle. Maybe. Maybe not.