Right, guys, I don’t get this.
In real life I’m frankly ridiculous. Most of the time I don’t process or edit my thoughts before I say whatever it is I’m thinking and so I just spout total garbage and most of the time people laugh and I really can’t tell if it’s at or with me any more and anyway I don’t know if I mind either way because I know just how ridiculous I am. Seriously, I say things like ‘ooh, you’ve got peas on your toes’ when I mean ‘I like your nice [green] nail-varnish’.
And then I write this blog, and 99% of the time I’m genuinely being serious and trying to think about a thing, and the truth is I’m about as informed as your average cat because, heck, my cat watches the 10’o’clock news every night, and Newsnight, and most of the time so do I but I don’t suppose either me or my cat could tell you anything about what’s just been told to us the moment the music starts rolling. I swear I mainly watch the news so I get to watch one of the weathermen, who I massively fancy but whose name I’ve forgotten.
I’m not going to claim I’m better at being funny, because it’s not as if I set out to make people laugh when I say ludicrous things about legumes and toes, but I’m, well, less worse at being funny than I am at being serious.
So basically this blog spends most of its time being an extended exercise in well-constructed BS, with extra added mopery. And yet I have little inclination to stop writing, at least, not right away.
Also I’ve just noticed that my housemate has planted salad matter in our windowboxes (I think). This makes me very happy. There are also herbs on the windowsill – and they’re germinating!
Now I’m just rambling, failing at being either funny or serious. Excellent.