Blogster

It is an interesting thing, considering the last post on this particular blog was, at her own personal request, about Lady Felicity Katherine Hainge, that she would pester me into starting to write once again. And, in a similar vein to previously, the only content she suggested was a continuation of the praise heaped upon her last time. So, although I may attempt to move away from this topic (purely for variety, of course), it is thanks to her that I have bothered to look for something to write about at all.

Being totally clueless about what to write actually led me to thinking about blogging a bit more. It seems to me that anyone who's anyone (or at least believes themselves to be someone) has a blog. But, having literally just read that sentence back, it isn't actually anyone. The first thing my mind goes to when I hear the word 'blogger' is cool, hipster types in London wearing fake glasses and totally retro 90's denim, taking photographs of their outfits that day in front of a distressed brick wall, saying what/who they're wearing (totally not cool or hipster if the answer to 'who' is anything other than 'vintage') and why it looks so great and calling it writing. I'm sure this is not representative of the blogging as a whole. In fact, I'm completely aware that it isn't. But it's at the very least a partial public face.

I read the other day that Bip Ling (a fashion blogger that must be pretty big because I have heard of her) feels under pressure to produce a blog post at least once a day. AT LEAST. Surely that is what Twitter is for? Demonstrating your writing ability/sartorial eye/comic nuance a few times a day in short little snapshots and then giving everyone a proper, thought-through piece of writing on whatever your calling in life is using enough words to give your readership something to actually sit down and read about. And surely, if you feel pressured to write about stuff more often than you're comfortable with, then it takes everything away from blogging that makes it different to just being a freelance writer dependent on commissions and deadlines to pay the rent; the freedom to discuss, express and shout passionately about the stuff you care about without worrying about whether the Times will go for that particular slant or not and whether you should offer it to the Daily Mail instead. (The answer to this, by the way, is always a resounding NO, unless you're Samantha Brick and/or enjoy writing the sort of bollocks read only by those who have nothing with which to enlighten their lives other than outrage and judgement.)

Maybe I'm missing the point. After all, why should blogging be all about writing? Why shouldn't it be about sharing photos of your outfit every day if that's what makes you feel happy and creative? I'm sure there are arguments which pinpoint exactly why it shouldn't, and actually, if I was in less of a good mood, I'd probably be ranting opinionatedly about it. As far as I can tell, having looked at this in what I think you will agree was an extremely academic examination, blogging seems to be about putting a little piece of yourself out there. But not in the same way as you do with Facebook and the like, because in order to even upload a blog post you have to have something that you can express in more than a swift sentence or single photo. It has to mean something, even if that something is just the expression of how you are feeling that day via the slightly interesting topic you've been pondering recently. What it certainly does is make you feel raw and exposed, even if you know you only have three mates who read your blog - you've willingly put a part of you that probably projects more about yourself than you know out into the universe, potentially forever, and people will think whatever they want to think. That is actually quite liberating (until someone tells you that you are tedious and boring, or that your totally amazing new vintage dress from Camden market makes you look like someone playing a bag lady in Oliver!, and suddenly you're not so sure).

Perhaps I should make the effort to do this more, and somehow I will work out what I want to get out of it and realise what everyone else gets out of what they blog about. I'll at least improve my writing skills - one seriously hopes - and maybe even discover an actual THING to write about. Until next time...

Lady Felicity Katherine Hainge

The funniest thing that has ever happened to me actually happened to my friend, the Lady Flic. I will tell you what it was, but it's  really not possible to appreciate the comic effect of this incident without having been there, so expect to be disappointed by what actually happened. 


I was in Flic's bed (as you do) whilst she sat on the bed moisturising her feet. We were both in pyjamas, and there were inevitably large glasses of wine involved somewhere, somehow. It's also worth pointing out that at this point in my life and for reasons I can't be bothered to re-visit, I hadn't found anything particularly funny for quite a while and was in a bit of a thought-bog regarding life in general. So - the scene is set. And for reasons that are no longer clear to me (perhaps due to the large glasses of wine ...?), Flic got up and jumped lightly off the end of the bed (perhaps to get more wine. Yes). However, having just moisturised her feet, they kept moving once they hit her carpet and she disappeared from view with a massive crash and failed to reappear - at least, not from my vantage point under the duvet. This simple accident was enough to catapult both of us into absolute hysterics. I was, for the first time in weeks, laughing so hard I was simultaneously crying and finding it difficult to breathe, whilst Flic, conversely, was laughing so hard she was unable to cry despite the fact that was what she really wanted to do. Have you ever laughed like that? When you just can' t stop, even though you know you should because your best mate is lying on the floor with a sore arse and a bruise like a plum growing on her elbow from where it hit the bed frame on the way down? When just the merest hint of a thought about the thing that's just happened makes you double up in hysterics because it's so funny, and the thought that actually she might need some help, an ice pack, or at least a chug of wine and a fag is just irrelevant because you're so busy laughing? That is how humorous that incident was. I am actually laughing to myself now. Hahahaaaaahaha. Hahaha. Oh Christ. I told you you wouldn't understand.


Now the reason this story was brought to you is basically because the Lady requested an entire post all about her. I don't want you thinking that she is self-obsessed and vain; she isn't by any stretch. She just likes my writing for some reason, or at least when I'm on form (her words). There are many things that she can do that I can't, or (more annoyingly) that I can do but not quite as well, such as flute-playing, lager-drinking and child-rearing - her little boy is definitely my favourite, and would definitely have grown up to be a ragamuffin had it been my maternal skills being put to use. But I can write, especially when it's about something completely un-academic and something as enjoyable as writing one of my best mates. And without sounding foolish and happy-clappy, one of the few people who know absolutely everything about me and can tell me I'm being a knob jockey without receiving a cold stare like most people would. (I'd love to be able to say 'punch in the face' but I'm not the violent type. I fight with WORDS, man.) She knows what is good for me and isn't afraid to tell me - which I appreciate very much, as do all of her mates (and I really do mean that in a good way!). She's also the only person I know who, when asked for a random suggestion of something for me to write about, says "ME". So hopefully I've risen to the challenge! And, yes, I know it's been a while since we talked about it... about 4 months, actually. I wrote the first draft pretty much straight away and then sort of got distracted... I'd like to say I've been busy, but whilst this definitely isn't a complete lie, I have found time to watch an awful lot of shit on YouTube and even an entire episode of Antiques Roadshow since the suggestion came up, so - sorry. It's no excuse really.


So this is my present to her, and to you - if you find the Story of the Slippery Feet as entertaining as we do. If you don't... well, never mind. I hope she will. :) xx

I Got Love For You... If You're Hated By The Daily Mail

Last time I sat down to write a post it was when the Pope was in town. I was all set to write a critical piece (with a brilliantly humorous, sardonic take on things, of course), throwing in some references to the letter in the Guardian by Stephen Fry and companions expressing their distatste for the Pope's visit being funded by the public, and a smattering of the complete - and hilarious - irony of the Daily Mail lecturing anyone for having any form of so-called prejudice.


And then Stephen Fry wrote this. http://www.stephenfry.com/2010/09/16/dailymailhate/


The most brilliant piece of writing ever. I may be wrong, but it reads as though he's just gone, "Fuck it, I am voicing my opinion here and now. Someone pass me an iPad, I will blog it!" Maybe in the back of a black cab on the way to a QI rehearsal... anyway, there was no way I was going to follow up that. I refuse to compete with Stephen Fry. It wouldn't even be a competition, it would just be the literary equivalent of a Christmas roast turkey with all the trimmings beside a cold leftover turkey sandwich from a garage. But do read the article. Especially if you think the Daily Mail is a sanctimonious, out-dated pedlar of bollocks that, if it - oh, the joy! - stopped circulation, could save a vast portion of rainforest that instead of becoming tiresome droning about immigrants in print form could support a bountiful reserve of beautiful and probably dangerous wildlife in a foreign country, something it is to be hoped Paul Dacre would go into hiding to avoid.


Anyway. That is all for now - I just wanted to share the love momentarily, and I'll write something proper very soon. xxx