Life Was out last night for my friend Chris's birthday - he's thirty-two now and all caught up with me. I haven't seen him properly since my own birthday last October - we do tend to go through these periods of just communicating through emails and text messages if at all - a side effect of modern life I suppose, but assuming he's reading we really shouldn't leave it too long until next time.
We met in The Symphony pub at the top of Hardman Street which was The Varsity last time I paid attention and seems much the same yet cheaper although the glasses of coke I was ordering got progressively smaller as the night progressed. I don't tend to love the more traditionalist pubs, but this also gained points for being spacious even if find the toilets required a certain amount of blind faith given that they were behind a door that had a sign pinned to it with the words 'private party - no admittance'.
Inevitably, perhaps the subject of blogging surfaced since I was the only blogger around the table (as far as I could tell) which I think compensated for the fact I was also the only person who didn't drive a car. I'm not sure that there's a rule that bloggers can't drive and drivers don't blog though - perhaps there's a Venn diagram in it assuming you could ask everyone in the world who blogs and/or drives cars. Anyway, I'm digressing.
To be honest it's still a bit of a culture shock to be talking about blogging and for people to know what you're talking about straight away without having to think of an explanation. Some of you will remember the 'dark' days of the early nineties when using the term was just an invite for blank faces and stuttering conversations. I'd say it was an activity that a few people did but didn't really talk about except in the huddled online enclaves. Time and amnesia leads me to forget when they actually went 'mainstream' but I suspect it was somewhere around The Guardian's Best Blogging Contest - at least in the UK.
One or two of the people there said that they read this blog, but not regularly, generally because there's so much of it.
The word prolific was used.
Which I am. I have a sort of rule that should try to post something to at least one of the blogs I write every night, and at least three paragraphs. I even managed it last night when I contracted a touch of insomnia and dropped this fittingly uninspiring bit of text to Behind The Sofa at two in the morning.
It doesn't always happen and the next night I try to make up for it, and not everything is actually very good (see above and probably below), but I think that if I don't do it I'll lose whatever semblance of a knack I have for it so I need to keep writing something - especially since I still harbour this bizarre notion that some day someone might actually decide to pay me for constructing sentences.
Madness.
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