Bitch on the Blog

July 31, 2017

Punctured

Who’d have thunk it? My blogging tyre is flat. Not because I can’t think of anything to say. Quite the opposite. I always fire on all cylinders – yet, the desire to press “publish” momentarily eludes me. “Delete” does me fine.

The joy has gone.

Why? Most certainly not on account of bloggers who cheerfully “follow” me even if they don’t comment. Most certainly not on account of those who comment here – with unfailing wit, perception, occasional mockery, always thoughtful.

However, and I don’t like admitting to what I perceive a weakness, there have been forces out in the blogging world which have achieved the unthinkable – namely, my, the unsinkable’s, reluctance to put myself into the public arena any further.

Looking back over my life, I have never been bullied. I am not the type. Yet there is one blogger, ably supported by a weak cast, who has shown me the vile side of life on the playground which constitutes blogging.

I am torn. I could name him and shame him. But then I’d be playing HIS game. Makes you think, doesn’t it, how someone else’s maliciousness tempts you to repay in kind. It is to my utter, total, most heartfelt regret that I have decided not to fall for that ruse – as much pleasure as it would give me to tear the guy and his accomplices apart. He hasn’t got a leg, or any other appendage, to stand on. Still, I’d rather not be a facilitator.

Yes, so my joy communicating on the page has momentarily been stifled. Please don’t send chocolate or other sweet condolences. A lime will suffice.

U

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December 18, 2016

Chemistry

Filed under: inexcusable,Kitchen,Observations — bitchontheblog @ 16:45
Tags: , , , , , , ,

Don’t think me mad. I am not. Or no madder than to be expected once you have left the relative safety of your mother’s womb.

I don’t know why, and this is why I am throwing myself at your collective shoulder, I do have a distinct horror of curdled milk. A fine cheese maker I’d have made.

In decades I haven’t curdled milk but this minute I did.  And before Looney and any scientists among you say anything, I know it’s NOT me who curdled the milk. The milk curdled all by itself.  Shows you what an awful position to be in when you are the middleman. The facilitator. The one with the pan. The milk. And the means to heat it.

Gravely and in grieving, yours,

U

September 4, 2016

All agony aunts and uncles to the rescue

Oh Wise Ones (that’s you, Sweethearts, in case you don’t recognize yourselves),

I need advice. Conundrum is as follows. For reasons not important this minute, though urgent as they are, I need to make contact with someone. A friend. Her husband has made it clear years ago that such contact is not to take place under any circumstances.

Naturally, initially I didn’t take his dictum seriously. After all, in my opinion, couples don’t come as parcels. Free will and all that. So I suggested to her a “clandestine” meeting (coffee). She replied she couldn’t. Because they have “no secrets” from each other. Well, all I can say her husband sure has done a good job at brainwashing. Brilliant, don’t you think, spouses being appendages to each other? What next? Mind police in the marital drawing room?

Anyway, that’s some time ago. Yet, god damn it, I need to make contact with her. However, and this is where Catch 22 chases its own tail, if I do [make contact with her], indeed my subterfuge in my professional capacity catching her out as a business contact, a potential client, will she still “report” me back to sa(i)d husband and all hell will break loose? Again?

What is it with some people that they can’t stand their ground? And before you ask, she herself has pleaded with him many times. No doing.

So, now what? And trust me. This is not airy fairy funny. It’s serious, it’s complicated and it needs to be resolved.

U

July 30, 2016

Lights off

“Just because you are paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t after you”.

I am not paranoid – and whoever recently tried to razor me down can go and stuff themselves in their chamber of horrors. However, and remember, both Orwell and Huxley are my shining lights in the way older brothers are, I can’t help feeling uneasy at times. It’s one of the reasons I prefer paying by cash. That way no one can trace the purchase of a sachet of cinnamon back to ME. Though, naturally, the person, any person, buying anything, will have been caught on CCTV. Yes, CCTV … What actual purpose does CCTV serve other than making you feel watched, uneasily, in the most innocent of pursuits?

In the line of duty I recently had the pleasure of talking to many a security guy working in retail. Being the affable me that I am I have been told things no one should know. And few will.

Upshot being – these days there is little hiding; not even under cover of the night. Think about that next time you do something you wouldn’t do in public. It really is the pits. Cat burglars take note. You will set off the alarm. As indeed I did last Sunday morning. All I wanted was some fresh air – walking round our nearby park at eight in the morning. Then – in misguided notion of doing my civic duty – I got caught up in a bit of a nightmare. Deafening alarm relentlessly doing what alarms do. Not that anyone showed up. Not at all. I could have cleared out the place and made a profit. Instead of which … Let’s hope that those of you who believe in Karma (as does the Angel) are right.

Those of you who are astute enough to point out some of the contradictions in what I wrote: I am well aware of them. Which makes the whole thing even more ironic. And not in a good way.

U

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