I like blogs. I like reading them. I didn't know what they were till recently because I am a bit simple but every now and then various little interesting boxes with catchy titles would pop into my line of vision during a particularly gripping facebooking session (why is it so addictive? So someone's cousin's dog chewed a shoe - why does that warrant me clicking 'read more'? Seriously?) or while googling something essential ('why was Reece Ritherspoon rude to a policeman' or similar). So I would open them up and find funny people telling funny stories, or angry people telling angry stories or spiritual people sharing ideas and I'd be gripped! There are a lot of brilliant people out there with razor sharp minds and you don't have to wait for them to find the time to write a book and for it to then sell enough so that you end up hearing about them and reading their ideas in five years time - you can read them now! If there were no work to go to I would lie down in a paddock and read myself sick. There is so much to be devoured. So many billions of brains splashing their thoughts out into the world. All ours for the taking should we be interested. Once again I find myself in awe of tinernet, and chuckling to myself over the fact that in twenty years time my kids will tilt their heads to oneside and say 'bless' (or the year 2033 equivalent phrase, perhaps 'sick' or 'sweet'?) as they look back on what will inevitably then be that dated form of communication called blogging.
Imagine my wide eyes when on holiday
last week my best friend started talking about writing a blog. "A
blog!" I cried encouragingly. "I like blogs! I like reading them!"
Imagine my enthusiasm for the idea of one of my favourite people in the
world, writing a blog about her incredibly interesting
and brilliant life, peppered constantly with her own unique wisdom and
utter excellentness. In case you can't imagine the enthusiasm, there was
lots. We were baking ourselves by the pool and already in quite a
serious state of bliss. Imagine the cogs turning
around our minds then, as both of us then came upon the stumbling
blocks so rudely standing in the way of her plan. Number 1: Her desire
to write about her current passion - fostering children as a single
woman. Confidentiality rules? We were stumped. Number
2: Her dyslexia. Fritha and words are not the best of pals. Give the
girl a yoga mat, or some massage oil, or a tantruming child, or an
audience of a thousand expectant people, or just a needle and thread and
she is a complete and utter expert. But the written
word is not her forte. Wikipedia says a lot of negative stuff about
dyslexia (sometimes Google is put to good use) but I feel that it is a
kind of special quirk, another weirdly cool thing about her. But
nonetheless, writing a blog would be tiresome in its
demands and perhaps not for her. 'Ah well' we sighed, our enthusiasm
dampening and our hearts a little sulky. Glass of rose?
Fritha and I, are not quitters. When an idea infiltrates itself into our
minds, either individually or as a pair,
we don't let it go (whether it's a good idea or a bad one). I knew her
stories needed to be told. And since she is with me most of the time, a
lot of her stories are mine too. And I quite fancied joining in with the
blogging gang and sharing some of them.
This chick is seriouisly inspiring. She constantly amazes me and so it
would be just plain selfish not to share her. "I know!" I yelped while
the first of the evening drinks were being poured poolside, as the sun
sank heavily into a lake of orange and pink.
"I'll bloody write it for you!"
Back in Blightly and having been
punched in the face with real life and the necessity for alarm clocks
and knowing what the time/day is and three regular meals a day and work
and school and everything else that is completely
erased from your brain, Men in Black style, whilst you are sunning
yourself in the Algarve, I have finally found time to stick myself
infront of the computer and start. And what a jolly time I have had!
Next time I am blogging (get me!) I will tell you more
about the wonder that is Fritha and how I became lucky enough to become