AND THEN WHO KNOWS?
I've lost track of the times we've tackled this enigma. I promise myself there will be a change in blog format after I've published the next index: I must have made that promise four or five times now. Then I bumble around reading blurb on the web and listening in as pretty young women with American accents (is there an 'expert' left in the world who doesn't have an American accent?) assure me, in terms my semi-educated English skull is quite incapable of absorbing, why their blog format is far and away the best thing since sliced bread (an always over-hyped product in my opinion).
I then seek local advice: this time I sought it from the computer lifeboat captain who said (Post 298) that he would think about it. That was last Friday.
On Sunday I phoned his home number and had a chat with our daughter-in-law, Pauline, who is currently recovering from a nasty bout of pneumonia that she simply refused to give in to: she's an Island girl. He was confined to bed with a heavy cold and sore throat. That's nasty, too.
It has been doing the rounds over here. My Mo is just getting over it. She insisted on getting up every day: she's a Pompey girl.
Anyway, I declined Paul's offer of a chat with Neil. There's a time for everything and I felt that wasn't the time. We'll get to talking again after blog index 6 has been published. Who knows? Before that, perhaps the faceless Silent Bobs at Google will break all their rules and offer me a solution - other than "fuck off" - in language I can understand.
Pigs might fly.
Oh, badgers do in The Badgers Of Deep Wood (my book for children aged nine to ninety nine) now almost completely revised and set to go.
Wish me the luck of finding favour with a pretty young publishing expert who has an American accent.
I've lost track of the times we've tackled this enigma. I promise myself there will be a change in blog format after I've published the next index: I must have made that promise four or five times now. Then I bumble around reading blurb on the web and listening in as pretty young women with American accents (is there an 'expert' left in the world who doesn't have an American accent?) assure me, in terms my semi-educated English skull is quite incapable of absorbing, why their blog format is far and away the best thing since sliced bread (an always over-hyped product in my opinion).
I then seek local advice: this time I sought it from the computer lifeboat captain who said (Post 298) that he would think about it. That was last Friday.
On Sunday I phoned his home number and had a chat with our daughter-in-law, Pauline, who is currently recovering from a nasty bout of pneumonia that she simply refused to give in to: she's an Island girl. He was confined to bed with a heavy cold and sore throat. That's nasty, too.
It has been doing the rounds over here. My Mo is just getting over it. She insisted on getting up every day: she's a Pompey girl.
Anyway, I declined Paul's offer of a chat with Neil. There's a time for everything and I felt that wasn't the time. We'll get to talking again after blog index 6 has been published. Who knows? Before that, perhaps the faceless Silent Bobs at Google will break all their rules and offer me a solution - other than "fuck off" - in language I can understand.
Pigs might fly.
Oh, badgers do in The Badgers Of Deep Wood (my book for children aged nine to ninety nine) now almost completely revised and set to go.
Wish me the luck of finding favour with a pretty young publishing expert who has an American accent.
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