I wonder if blogs are going out of fashion. Will I still be stumbling along in a year's time, the only person in the world left blogging, oblivious to the fact that no one is reading mine or anyone else's any more? Will I have to buy a large journal and commit private thoughts to paper in the sad hope that someone might be interested at some point in the future?
Instead of pompously thinking 'Helen talks to the world' every morning (a bit like a personalised BBC Radio 4) I will become 'Helen talks to her cats' or 'Helen talks to the milkman' (which I won't, after cancelling the milk when I found BNP leaflets delivered with it two weeks ago).
Actually, I've switched to evening blogging which isn't so good because I am usually tired and make lots of typos, which are a pain to correct. the other thing is that things look different at the end of the day. Mornings, you are full of expectations and dreads, and trying to balance the two; evenings, one has triumphed and the other been defeated and it's not so exciting.
Today has been a good day, though, with odd little quirks like sitting next to a car in a traffic jam that was belting out Gosrap, a genre that I thought had disappeared. It seemed home-made, with the occupants of the car looking proud and embarrassed at the same time (it wasn't very good and I think theyb semi-realised). I had some nice conversations, and overheard some strange ones. Someone had been nicking booze from the Co-op and the Offy and hiding it in the bushes; the check-out staff at the Co-op were chatting about it.
Apart from that, it is possible that my music back-catalogue house may shortly be in order, whcih would be a pleasant end to the year.