In a week when a couple of my blogchums (Grumpybloke and Lindow) have torched their blogs and done a runner from the virtual world, I read this morning that a few others are thinking of following suit. Funnily enough, I’ve been seriously considering doing the same.
After all, when one’s received the odd threat and various less than complimentary messages from total strangers, it does tend to make one question not only their motives and intent, but also the sanity of a decision almost three years ago to ‘go public’ on a global blogsite.
Maybe I should have simply carried on emailing reports to friends. Or, by starting a blog, maybe I should have stuck to writing about baguettes, bluebells and hackneyed Laurie Lee impressions of life in rural France. But that ain’t my style. I’ll leave that to wotsisname and ‘A Year in Provence’. Besides which, as I’ve frequently mentioned, there’s only so much one can say about dogwalking, chainsawing and cooking spag Bol before repetition and monotony begin to bore everyone rigid. Which is why I began looking beyond my immediate horizons for new inspiration, thus triggering the odd comment or two from certain disenchanted visitors. Luckily, I’ve now been instructed in how to censor their comments. But the damage has been done.
My previous posting ‘The back of beyond’ was to have been my last. In it I intentionally included various fairly obvious metaphors for recent events: the storm and environment being self-explanatory; the howling dog possibly being me; his buried mate possibly being the buried blog; the storm passing and the clear night air being the sense of relief that it was all over; the owl being Ackers and his wise advice; the day ending and the closing of the door obviously being the end of the blog. I’d been looking for a suitable ending for ages.
Georgie, however, had missed all the kerfuffle. So when she found out what had been going on and my decision to quit, she told me to ignore it all and continue blogging regardless. Said she looked forward to reading my reports because I don’t say a lot at the best of times, very little on the phone and it’s about the only way she can be kept informed about things like migrating cranes, village events and what I’ve been up to.
So, just for her, I’m having second thoughts about pulling the plug. Bit strange though. As I sit here on a rainy Sunday afternoon in self-imposed exile nattering away to myself and nearest and dearest about nothing in particular, I keep forgetting that others are listening in. Haven’t a clue who you all are. Or why. Not the foggiest. All I know is that despite this being a very public forum, I still think of my little corner as being essentially private. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe there’s a better way of keeping in touch without worrying about what outsiders think. And maybe I should follow in Grump’s and Lindow’s footsteps after all.
It’s a tricky one.
2008-03-16 @ 15:29