To get a Stylish Blogger award when you’re a couple of weeks off the block, when the ink on your banner is still wet, when you don’t know how to work the damned thing, when you feel you’re muttering to yourself in the corner – that’s actually really exciting . And when it comes from someone like the very singular Little Augury – well then! It was she who has (almost) turned me onto lavender, and she who has definitely brought home how art can inspire interiors (read here). I thank you once, I thank you twice, I thank you once again!
So, as far as I understand how this works, I am to say seven things about myself and nominate seven other blogs?
The nomination bit is a tad tricky because I have only recently begun dipping my toes in the blogowaters and I still know virtually nussing. So here’s it for now, and I’ll add more as I discover them.
As for the seven deadly facts, I offer these up:
-Let’s get some of the bad bits out of the way – I can be high-handed, quick tempered, demanding, irascible, imperious, aloof, impatient and fickle. But not all of the time.
-I have an aversion to buttons which borders on the phobic. I cannot touch (most of) them, nor look at them, and if you’re wearing any you sure as hell won’t be getting a hug from me. Unless you’re Miss Pimp, of course.
-I anthropomorphise everything. Going out into the world can be as wringing as sitting through the Orestia, or Mrs Minerva or Beaches. That poor tomato, squashed! That poor cow/poor aubergine/kangaroo/felled tree! It’s exhausting.
-Some day soon I’m going to start a blog called “Can you put a saddle on that?”. It will itemise the daily jokes I get when walking Remington. What you don’t know before you get a Great Dane is how they, as a breed, bring out the comedian in everyone. And what none of the comedians out there seem to know is that there’s only one joke in the whole collective compendium. The horse joke. But I’m not as grouchy as I might sound. We love all the love, me and the Rem. It’s just that my smile in response to the first daily iteration becomes more of a rictus by the twentieth.
-Until about 18 months ago I was working as a psychotherapist. I was eight years into my training as a psychoanalyst. Then I found the courage to walk away from all of it. The work was good. And psychoanalysis is a great tool, but the institution of it, like the institution of most things, is full of conservatism and quasi-religious orthodoxies. It made me ill, in the way that doing things which are wrong for you makes you ill. So now I’m living a shapeless baggy life, with an eye out for what’s right.
-I’m stuck half way through writing a novel. I’ve been stuck there for a very long time. Thinking about it is narcolepsy-inducing.
BTW, I thought the innernets were supposed to be lawless? I have not been able to leave comments on some blogs because, I am informed, I have “illegal characters” in my url. Which I take to refer to ‘pimp’. Oh Place of Prudery!