Tuesday, 12 January 2010


Truly, it was a thing of beauty. Fully formed, it sat there, resplendent in it's fullyformitude. Coherent and lucid, being possessed of the holy trinity of a beginning, a middle and an end, it was that wondrous thing - the complete idea for the day's blog post. Oh sure, it wasn't 100% complete. It was up for a little bit of mulling and possibly even pondering as I commuted from business-like London Bridge to snowy, downtown Hither Green but it was there and it certainly had the feeling of...well, not necessarily a corker but most definitely heading into doozy territory.

And then, like the melting snow on the station platform*, it was gone, floating away into the ether because I had been stupid enough to not pin it down via the medium of words and the nib of a pen to the pages of my notebook. I mean, I always carry a notebook with me and what's the point in that if you're not going to write in it, eh? (No, no, don't answer, it was rhetorical and I can't hear you anyway so you might look a little foolish just talking to some words on a screen.) In fact, I actually carry two notebooks and yet singularly failed to put anything into either. And now I don't even have a hint of a glimmer of glimpse as to what the blinking flip it was all about. Nothing. Not a sausage.

Moral of today's story? Write it down, Nick, you insufferable nincompoop.

Moral of today's story II? On the plus side, you can get yet another blog out of not having a blog to write. It's kind of stretched beyond a theme now and into the realms of the ridiculous, quite frankly.

* Yeah, I know I whinged yesterday about the constant snow references I'm getting every day - it's obviously taken it's toll and completely ingrained itself into my simile banks. Not that I'm comparing my brain to a computer. At least, if I was, it would be a 1980s Acorn Electron. Cassette drive and everything. And it would be loading the classic Acorn game Monsters in which you dig a hole for the monster, it falls into the hole and you fill it back in again to kill it's monstery behind. However, if you're too slow, the monster gets out and turns into a super-annoyed uber-monster. So, you know, best be quick. Anyway, I digress. Head on back up the page there.


Irish Gumbo said...

Recursiveness is a wonderful thing is recursiveness.

I have about 4 notebooks, and do the same blasted thing: great idea, no writey, no story...

Diane said...

You do crack me up.

That Baldy Fella said...

IG - Yep, it always seems great and then just slips away completely... Although, on the cold, hard light of the page, it might turn out to utter arse after all..

Diane - Why, thank you kindly, miss!