I’ve just been looking at my blog stats. They show a marked spike in early January and the following month and that’s not just because I was posting every day, because I still am posting every day. Now, either misery and mopishness inspires me to write unconnected but great posts, or you lot are total ghouls and wanted to see once I’d done it once whether I would be all miserymope again and write another bitchy whiny entry about how sad and single I was, which is frankly appalling of you, and I’m tempted to stop talking to you, except that to be honest I probably get more pleasure out of writing this blog than anyone does from reading it, and anyway, I can’t say I don’t tend to be equally ghoulish sometimes. Aren’t we all?
Anyway, I don’t tend to go in for spilling my guts out online any more. Not to the same extent. Personally I like Flix’s approach, being cryptic when necessary. I’ve had some utterly mental guesses about my Flix-lite post from a few days ago. Ah, joys. No-one has got it right yet. I suspect A would if he read it but he doesn’t read this blog because ‘you say everything on it to me first anyway, Jenny’. I’m not sure how true that is. If it is true I must be boring as all hell (I should imagine much of hell is pretty boring, because being bored is hellish).
I’m off on a total ramble. As I write it’s, ooh, quarter past ten. I probably should go to bed though, because I’m tired. Ashes to Ashes first, though.