A longwinded resume of the cars I have owned and crashed is not of interest to everyone. I realise that, and it also occurred to me that if the word ‘blog’ is derived from ‘web log’, accounts of what happened 20 years ago might, at first, not seem to qualify. Well, in that case I shall stop calling this a blog. I once kept a diary, from the early Eighties until the mid-Nineties, and it was not just an account of my daily life, in fact it was hardly that at all, but more of a commonplace book. The blog performs a similar function, though not quite the same. There’s also the point to be made that there are really no rules on blogging and every blogger should be able to do what he or she likes.
Were it a diary, today would be described thus:
Woke early at about 4.30am, which I rarely do, but decided to surf the net, read some reviews in the heavier journals of Selina Hastings’ biography of Somerset Maugham and continue writing Part Whatever of my Guide To Cars I Have Crashed. Mark, my brother, with whom I lodge when here in London, got up at 6am because he does a weekly stock take on Mondays at the Troubadour where he works. I dozed and listened to the radio (Today on Radio 4) between 7am and 9am, latterly dozing more than listening, then I got up, brushed my teeth and walked work. It is only a 25-minute walk from Earls Court Sq. to Derry Street, just off High St. Kensington where the Mail has its offices. Listened to Start The Week while walking there. Bought a tea and a bowl of fruit in the canteen, then went to my desk, picking up today’s edition of the paper on the way. Leafed through the paper, with especial though superficial attention to the pages I worked on yesterday to make sure there were no monumental cock-ups, then logged into this, my blog, to finish off the car guide. At 10.25am, almost an hour later than usual, I finally got my arse together to take the lift down to the gym, which seems to be in the bowels of the building, but is, in fact, on the ground floor. Ten minutes on the exercise bike, 20 minutes on various weights, then warmed up, then ran a mile on the treadmill. I was flying solo today, so I could be 30 minutes late with impunity. Back at my desk by 11.30am, pissed around doing very little, looking up stuff on the net, gossiping with whoever was available to gossip with (and suggested that Sue, Chris and I should have a Word Of The Day which we would try to work into everything we said. Today’s word was ‘plangent’, but the challenge never got off the ground except for Sue observing tonight that as the editor has taken the week off, we were all denied the ‘plangent’ sound of his complaints.
Etc. This is getting tedious, and is boring me to write just a little more than it is boring you to read. So now you know why I have decided to redefine the word ‘blog’ to suit myself and bugger convention.
By the way, when I first thought of writing an entry such as this, I thought I might try to come up with some jokes about ‘investigating the ontology of blogging’. But doesn’t really come off, so I have used the word only in the title.