Blog Life

Thursday, April 22nd, 2010.

Not a particularly odd day and yet the last day. Well, the last day for a post. And, so, a particularly odd day.

I haven’t been back for ages. You see she was inextricably linked to another woman who caused me some grief. In fact the woman who caused the birth of this place for my blog. And so I couldn’t link to her.

Oh, she replied after that. As late as June, I think. But then nothing. So April wasn’t exactly the ‘last day’ but rather the ‘last day of posting’.

But, it makes you think or, rather, it makes me think.

This is not intended to be morbid at all. But I am curious. Supposing I were to have an accident, tonight, on my way home. I wouldn’t have another post. There wouldn’t be another post. And yet, for some time, the blog would be ‘live’ and people would find it. But there would be no further correspondence and no comments posted it would just halt, as if frozen, as if that were the last day.

And people would come, from time to time and, maybe, wonder why I had suddenly stopped.

Just like me with that other blog. The one that I kept in my links but kept private and not on display.

She wasn’t young – but not so old either. Trying to organise flights off her island. Well, not her island but the island where she lives (or lived). For both her and various members of family who had come to stay but now want to go home but cannot because of a volcano and it’s ash (is it REALLY less than a year ago?).

And she says she is busy but, you know, not a single post in a year? Did she get to the UK? Did she get back?

It makes me wonder. Now, as she is a once-famous author, I googled her name. there is nothing to say she is no longer with us. So one wonders why.

And it struck me that I will, probably, never know. Not that I knew her in real life but, you know ……..?

And so it is true of my blog too since the only person that could really write something else cannot. Not only is he not English (and so it would be difficult but not impossible) but he doesn’t have the password or know his way around.

And there is no one else.

Not one.

And so it would just stop. And I’m not sure if, in my mind that isn’t more horrific than what would have physically happened to me to make it stop.

I mean to say, you couldn’t even ‘talk’ about it as the comments are moderated. At least, not here. So, you would have to wonder in silence. Like I am doing with her. Except I’m writing this. But this has no connection to her or her blog and so it is a vacuum.

And I guess I was in the ‘mood’ for this because I read about this – which may or may not be true but, probably, no one will ever know.

I think it’s the ‘not knowing’ that is worst.

But every blog has it’s ‘life’, after which, for various reasons, it must depart or be killed off or just be left hanging (although, some people have killed off more of their blogs than others – mentioning no names ;-) ).

Still, it is a sadness I feel.

The smell of dead things.

Of course, certain smells and sights remind you of times, of places, of people, etc.

And I was in conversation with a couple of people the other day. I was explaining how our Purchasing department (occupied by three women) have plants and flowers dotted around but that most of their plants and flowers are in various stages of death.

And how there was one flower that, even when alive, I detested as, when alive, it smelt like a dead thing. And when dead it stopped smelling but looked like a dead thing. It has no redeeming features.

The other people were Italian and I was told that the smell was wonderful because it reminded them of spring. Of course, since we don’t have it in the UK, it doesn’t have this recollection for me – to me it is quite horrible.

The flower (or is it shrub) is mimosa and today, being La Festa delle Donne (Women’s Day) it the flower of choice to give to a woman. I suppose, in the same way, the flower for St David’s Day is a daffodil (since it’s almost the only flower out in the UK on St David’s Day).

I don’t give it. I couldn’t bear to have it in the same space as me. Dreadful, dreadful stuff.

Also, as it happens, this is Pancake Day – but only in the UK, I fear. This is a shame as I really like pancakes. I could make my own but, somehow, this not being Pancake Day here takes all of the impetus out of it.

I suppose, as it’s Pancake Day, it must also mean it is Shrove Tuesday.

Wow! There’s a LOT of stuff going on today.

Are you doing pancakes or celebrating Women’s Day or doing some other wonderful thing for this very full Tuesday?