Purveyor of Bollocks to the Crowned Heads of Europe
Saturday, 3 January 2015
Annual introspection session
In a somewhat pathetic (but, I hope, understandable) and desperate attempt at escapism, H.I. and me ploughed our way through the entire collection of Harry Potter dvds this Christmas, and jolly good they were too.
Last night, when the 3rd repeat of the 3rd repeat came onto the radio, we wondered what we could watch next, and I remembered the BBC version of Wind in the Willows, with Bob Hoskins as Badger, Mark Gatiss as Rat and Matt Lucas as Toad (I'm not going to read out the entire cast-list).
This has become a cherished classic for me from the first time I watched it, and - though I have lent it out a couple of times - stays way up on the shelf of the permanent collection ready for the next viewing. I realised last night that one of its appeals is that it covers all four seasons, including a snowy Christmas (reference only, as the animals are ruled by Pan and not Christ) and a dreamy, butterfly and firefly-filled Summer river bank. Sigh...
Once again, I have been forced to ask myself what I think this blogging business is all about, and I came so close to the conclusion that - in my case - it bore such a strong resemblance to masturbation in public, that I almost closed myself down in disgust.
On the few occasions I have shared these thoughts about this blog, I have felt even more disgusted with myself when some of you have said things like, 'Oh no, don't do that! We love it', etc. and I appear even more wanky and self-obsessed than before.
I'm afraid that recipes and interior design just don't do it for me, even though I genuinely do believe that they fulfil a useful and universal public service role for anyone who can speak English - a bit like wedding catalogues, but with the difference that we all eat every day but usually only get married twice in one lifetime.
Nobody has sat down and written with only themselves in mind - not even Samuel Pepys. You might as well just talk to yourself and save the paper - actually, I do that too.
I often write stuff thinking that if it only gets through to one person, then that is a job well done, even if you have a million followers.
But when one person starts to believe that everything is written for them alone, then it all goes bad and the whole thing becomes a stinking waste of time which repulses everyone.
Of course it is all highly personal, but it has to be of some use, general appeal or just mild amusement for it to be worth doing. I hate it when I lose what little self-deprecating sense of humour I have.
I have just been told that the former keyboard player for Ultravox lives and works in Bath as a psychotherapist, so I suppose I could always go and see him if things get too much... Only joking!