Us bloggers stick together you know. We have to. We’re all quiet little wallflowers who wouldn’t say ‘boo’ to a goose and therefore we write our postings to get our messages and thoughts out without fear of anybody taking issue with us in person.
But then of course we sometimes meet our readers and we get it – full in the face. ‘Crap’, ‘Boring’, ‘Too Long’, ‘Too personal’ …….and these are the comments I can put in print! But I don’t care. I really don’t. The blogs are for me (to keep me cerebrally active) and for my family so they can see what I’m up to without having to resort to daily phone calls, but even then, my family can be cruel. My eldest son,
I was reading yesterday’s posting of a fellow blogger, Allison, (I use the word ‘fellow’ in a literal sense as she’s quite a delightful girl judging by her picture and her postings) who was both celebrating and moaning about the festive seasonal visit of her brother Pat who, crime of crimes, ate all the left-over Pizza which made me think of my brother
Only last night, as the whole family sat on the sofa in front of a roaring log fire watching Mama Mia and singing along with the words, J said, ‘Ohhhhh I wish
But don’t think this is a one-way-street. He’s had plenty of opportunities to get his own back, the most recent being when we went for a haircut the morning after we’d had a ‘boys night out’ in Paisley (see post of 18th Oct). Needless to say, and given that we’d only crawled into bed about 3am,, arriving at the hair salon at 9am was a bit ambitious….but we made it. I knew
Now I was still pretty well-oiled from the night before but even I could work out that something wasn’t quite right here. The owner continued, ‘now be a good boy Thomas and sit here whilst I get you a drink. Would you like a nice glass of
I was now thinking something was amiss but as I was still inebriated, I let it go. No point in embarrassing myself. Then the clippers came right up the back of my head and right over the top. Although a bit blurry in the mirror, I could see a follicle massacre taking place here, but again I was too hung over to bother. Anyway, the haircut (???) ended and I was helped out of the chair. The owner said I had been a ‘very good boy’ and I could come back sometime and she’d make sure I’d get the big leather chair again. I was still thinking about this stupid infantile language she was using but put it down to the fact that we were in a rather outlying bit of
He laughed uncontrollably and said he’d told the owner that his brother (me !!!) had been in an institution since the age of five, had had a terrible illness which gave him a mental age of seven years old and that he knew very little of what was going on around him. Everything which had happened for the last 30 minutes fell perfectly into place. Touché.