March 23: Blogtastic

Ohhh, I'm so very excited about my blog. I started this up just a few weeks ago, back-dating my diary accounts I had begun keeping while on my festering, rank-smelling death bed in January. I like to write. I write for a living, though sometimes, when I read my master-pieces after my boss has 'tweaked them' out of all recognition, I do wonder why I have not yet been fired.
My counsellor (the Big C) clocked that I was a 'creative type' (do I really dress that badly?) and that writing my thoughts down might help. She more than likely meant on a scrap of paper, to be discarded, and lost, then one day found months later, marvelled at in quiet disbelief (did I really think that?) then thrown away. Or better yet (as I am a creative type) tossed casually onto the log-burner on a night-in drinking Magners and listening to Joni Mitchell.
I thought I'd do a blog instead and treat myself to a bit of technological-advancement. I've never done one before but I loved reading Wife In the North's, so what the hell.
Today, I logged on, slightly unenthusiastic already I must admit, as blogging is quite all-consuming. And (as I said) I do write for a living so dong this actually entails yet more hours sat alone at my kitchen table being stared at by a cat.
This time, though, I noticed I had a comment. One lovely, exciting comment from somebody called RH.
Goodness, I thought. Are people actually reading this? Can people actually be bothered to skim through my endless moans and gripes. Surely, no one would have the patience. It's quite terrifying to think that this is actually out there. If Father-to-be found out, he would more than likely be very angry. Or would he cry? He would probably cry and think me very, very cruel (he may well be right, this has crossed my mind, I am just trying to block it out). He might start his own blog and fill readers in all the gaps I've missed out and make me look horrendous. 'Do you know what she did this week?' Or - perhaps, but I might be being naive, no? - it might shame him and his family into slightly better behaviour. They might worry I was doing a bad PR job on the Sikh community. 'Us, say such horrible things about a tiny little baby not yet born into this world? Us, reject our very own grandchild and deny its existence? Us, disown our son for bringing such shame into the family? Us, be so horrid about a woman he once cared for? Never.'
Anyway, I've decided it's not all about him. I've not re-read and counted-through my postings, but I reckon less than five per cent of them are dedicated to our failed relationship and the medieval attitudes of the Indians. The rest are all just my ordinary goings-on, life being pregnant, life in a new home, life knitting with snakes etc., with a bit of spin to make them sound more exciting, of course. So there we go, your honour. I have my defense. The blog is staying (just like Bump! Ha!)

In my excitement, after realising that I must have at least one reader, I thought I would try to link to other blogs. I searched for 'Bristol blogs' and found two to start with. One is written by a man who likes to run marathons. There is a big photo at the top of his home-page of bleeding nipples. Yes, that's right, blood through a t-shirt, how attractive. I do not bother reading it. The other is by a woman who clearly likes cushions. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Everyone likes a good cushion from time to time. But I think she's a bit obsessed. Her whole blog is about the exciting padded creations so I don't bother reading that one either. I think: 'Hmm, if this is my local competition then perhaps my drivel isn't so bad, after all.'