Bitch on the Blog

April 1, 2018


Being Easter my thoughts turned to eggs. Not so much scrambled as chocolate.

I particularly like the tiny ones which I leave on every surface all over the house. Wrapped in green, gold, blue, pink foil. Atmospheric among vases of daffodils, and, obviously, keeping people in chocolate without being faced with a full on one, the size of an ostrich egg.

Yes, so with eggs on my mind just now I went for a stroll round the park when one of my lesser brain children was still born.

Trouble is, as soon as you set foot out of the house, misery will meet you. I make it my mission to wring a smile out of anyone coming into my vision, coming my direction. On the whole I am pretty successful. Despite my being the arsehole that I am depicted as in certain quarters in blogland, I am one of those amazing people whose beaming smile, a smile from the heart because I really really really like people, makes others, strangers, smile back. Children, adults, young men, old men, young women, old women. Dogs. It’s a gift. Let’s hope I’ll never suffer a stroke leaving my face immobile. Life won’t be the same again. In fact it’ll be shite.

Yes, eggs. So there I was looking everyone I came across this afternoon wide and into the eye, as I do, when I had this, at first glance, marvellous idea: How about if I gave every single person crossing my path today one of those tiny foil wrapped chocolate eggs? Obviously they’d take it. But, and this is the big BUT, would they eat it? More to the point: If a stranger gave me one would I eat it?

And thus an awful thought was born. Namely that the world we live in has made us suspicious of the kindness of strangers; suspicious in a way unrecognizable from the time when I was a child, a young adult. If I, of all people, forever trusting the good in mankind, can fathom a thought like that then the sad truth is that the world is effed.

Want one?



November 2, 2017


Brief annotation to my observations on bloggers.

There is a blogger. He doesn’t read my blog (literally and figuratively so his feelings are being spared, his dignity intact). He is interesting in many ways. Interesting in the way you put something under a microscope and marvel at its intricacies once they are visible through being magnified.

I have “known” and read him long enough to be able to predict which posts of his he will take down. Eventually. Consistently. That he takes them down is understandable. I wouldn’t have published them in the first place. What is less understandable that a man of a certain age and undoubted intelligence shows so little self restraint. Throw yourself on the page, only to retreat? Consistently?

When someone consistently takes themselves back, doesn’t stand by what they said earlier (lacking conviction?), I question their integrity. To put it another way: If that guy were a bridge I wouldn’t set foot on it. Too wobbly.



May 6, 2017

Sea Change

Have you ever got lost? I don’t mean in the metaphorical sense but its literal meaning.

Were you frightened when you did? How old were you?

I got lost twice in my life. Once age six or so. In Berlin which we had just moved to. My mother asked me to go to the bakers to get some fresh rolls. Not only was I honoured to be trusted with such a task I found a bakery. Bought the rolls. A bag full to bursting point. With a smell to match. Came out of the shop and stood in wonderment. There were all these high rise buildings caving in on me. Which sort of gave me something to look up to whilst trying to work out whether to turn right, left or walk straight ahead. After the first minute of confusion had worn off I was perfectly happy. I had visions of never finding my family again, being adopted by a kind fairy and living a life of bliss. Alas, it was not to be. Once I had realized I couldn’t ask anyone to give me directions since I didn’t even know the name of the street we lived on I just relied on my innate sense of direction. High rise or not. Never told my mother. “What took you so long?”, she said. Some things best kept to oneself.

The second was not that long after, and yes, we had moved again, when we visited the sea side. There we were, complete with beach hut and I went for a swim with one of those pesky blow up rings round my body. Don’t trust salt water. And don’t lose yourself in reverie. By the time I got back to the shore my parents, their friends and one sibling (tiny) had gone. I took it in my stride. Fairy tales are full of children, abandoned. Main thing in life is to keep your nerve. And let little surprise you. As I was trying to work out where to go from where I was my poor mother and one of our friends were running down the promenade shouting my name. “Sonny, Sonny”.

Apparently the current had taken me further and further and further sideways.

So? Did/do you ever get lost?


October 4, 2016


Filed under: Communication,Ethics,Human condition — bitchontheblog @ 08:46
Tags: , , , ,

Despite the years marching on I have not grown into a cynic. Thank dog for one of his smaller mercies.

Which is why, yesterday morning, I was chilled to the bone. And wished I were five again to run to either my mother or grandmother to make it all better, nay, take it all away.

I quote “Ask me what you want to know, but I won’t tell you the truth, of that you can be sure,” saying she liked the passage [of another author].

“Of that you can be sure” … Breathe in, breathe out.

Let’s leave aside who “she” who “liked the passage” is. Doesn’t matter. What matters is the content of the quote (incidentally by an author I have on my shelf for good reason, namely, Italo Calvino). Who knows in what context Calvino said those words. But HER liking not telling the truth? And this on publishing her AUTObiography?

The pole of my esteem I hold others in I don’t grease that much. One needs to make allowances, and that way most stay up there high. Those hell bent on getting down can always jump or use their own spit. But, by golly, when someone’s spouting chills me (see above) to the bone I am on red alert. Whoever “she” is I’d not trust her with my frying pan.

Which reminds me: Why, when in court, are even atheists, agnostics, expected to swear on the bible to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth? One would hope so. But why on the Bible? Being made to swear on your grandmother’s grave possibly more effective in making you think twice before bending that “truth” to your advantage.



March 16, 2014

In good faith

Filed under: Ethics — bitchontheblog @ 17:24

Before I go into the kitchen where I wish I belonged one question. Call me naive.

Do any of you actually record private phone conversations? If so what’s the purpose? And why don’t you point this out (as all companies do – to their credit) to the ‘friend’ you are talking to?

Bloody hell.


June 10, 2012

Genius running on empty

Filed under: Happiness — bitchontheblog @ 11:19
Tags: , , , ,

Last time we discussed the merits of an orderly desk.

Phil and David (respectively) put forward notions that chaos denotes genius and an empty desk reflects an empty mind. Not so. Neither. I can’t recommend order enough. As Conrad said it’s cyclical. And it is. Ebb and tide. I will not go all Feng Shui on you but there is no doubt that the less stuff there is flying around you the better you’ll think. You’ll breathe lightly. You’ll be less distracted (more is the pity).

And Renee is right: The moment you throw something out the next you’ll need it. It’s called Sod’s Law. Which is why it pays not to be married. That way you can’t point a finger of blame. Only berate yourself.

May I put forward a theory well worth giving a moment to:

Leaving personal momentos (like photos, letters and emails) aside nothing is irreplaceable. I firmly believe, indeed could fashion this into a mission statement of mine, that hoarders do NOT trust life. I do trust life. Any moment now I’ll break out into song “You lose some, you win some” but it’s true: I know people whose garages are so overflowing with screws and broken widgets they may need “some day” they let their cars rust outside. If you are one of them don’t buy a Citroen.

Yes, so throw out all that gunk, tidy your whereabouts, don’t keep things for that rainy day which, in all likelihood, will never come AND first and foremost: Trust life. You’ll find another screw if you really need it. And you won’t [need it] A book shelf doesn’t collapse on being one, or two,  or three [screws] short. It’ll just be a bit wonky.


May 6, 2012

Itch on the blog

Filed under: Communication,Errors — bitchontheblog @ 17:46
Tags: , , , , , , ,

Sweethearts, Followers, Foes and Countrymen, Expats and Xenophobes,

This morning I stumbled across a great blogger. How did I find her? Such is my luck she, until then unknown to me, subscribed to my blog out of the blue. Just looking at her photo peeked my curiosity. She is such a find that, for the time being, I’d like to hug her to my own bosom before sharing her delights with you. Yes, that’s how selfish I am. Mean into the bargain.

Her being a creature who gives most generously. Not least more than one inspiring lesson on how to maximize ‘wordpress’ and make use of its many wonders. For three years I was perfectly happy to skate along my blog on the absolute minimum. No fancies for me. Just a pen.

No longer: Madame La Find has enthused me to look into some of her suggestions of how to fiddle, not least with widgets. So please do not be alarmed if my side bar suddenly looks a bit like a hat worn at the races. I am trying – I am baffled – nothing works – my “About me” section has miraculously disappeared – at least my patience is still intact. So do bear with me. Or ignore me for the foreseeable future.

Trying this trying that, mightily pleased with myself that I finally had let myself being coaxed out of the comfort zone of my wordpress inertia, there was a startling half hour when I couldn’t log onto my blog any longer; though it was still open and visible to the public. No more new posts for my devoted globe spanning readership? Perish the thought. We all need to do our bit to keep Babylon going.

So I gazed out of the window, pondering on the vagaries of life, consoling myself that I could always start another blog, say, Itch on the Blog. Whilst that name loses the original’s alliteration, bringing head lice and fleas to mind, it may serve my purposes well.

Alas, the Bitch has returned. So the Itch will have to wait.


December 13, 2011


Filed under: Communication — bitchontheblog @ 14:01
Tags: , , ,

Like the rest of you, will write soppy Christmas post soon – with a bit of luck before Christmas.

In the meantime I would like to reassure my readers that my sloppily, spur of moment, throwing any thought of mine on the blogging page is no mark of disrespect [for you, the reader]. It’s a mark of trust.

If, like most of you or so it appears, I put forethought, chiselling my words, editing and all manner of perfectionism into it, you’d never see a word of me. Why? Because I am a perfectionist. It’s all or nothing.

So this blog is nothing. Otherwise it wouldn’t exist.


Blog at