23 March 2010 (Tuesday) - Literature and Sculpture

A while ago I was in a hotel in St Leonards having a literary discussion with several pretentious types I’d met at the bar. One of whom was handing out his calling card – he was fashioning himself as “The Bard”. I often go under various pseudonyms so I suppose I have no grounds for undermining another for using an alias. But “The Bard”? Perhaps it was as well that I was a tad tipsy.

The pretentious were extolling the virtues of various accomplished authors. Initially “The Bard” and his entourage had looked down their noses at the tattooed thug (me!) who’d dared to express an opinion on the matter. But their attitude changed when they realised that I’d met the poet laureate, and that one of my offspring was a published poet. The conversation moved onto preferred genres of literature, and I remarked that I liked a good biography. Those who like the sound of their own voices had all sorts of meaningless big words and phrases to explain the relevance of biography to today’s gestalt and zeitgeist (whatever that means). By this time the ale was beginning to kick in, I’d had enough pretension, and I left them with the remark that I like biography because basically I’m a thoroughly nosey bugger and I want to find out what other people are getting up to.

Which is why today I’m rather glad to see a commitment from one of my loyal readers to blog more himself. I subscribe to a dozen different blogs of friends, and I love seeing what’s going on in other people’s lives. I’m looking forward to being even more nosey.

Another late start meant I needed another lame excuse not to do anything in the garden. This time I will go with “Rain Stopped Play”. Instead I mucked about in NeverWinter. Having threatened to visit WyeVale today, I set off early, and thought I’d call into the builder’s centre on the way to get more gravel boards. I’m not sure how, but buying gravel boards took over half an hour, and I didn’t have time for WyeVale. Which was probably for the best. I’ll call in tomorrow, and hope I don’t regret it.

And so to work, where during a dull day I found my likeness (pictured above) immortalised in packing squiggles. I’m told the resemblance is uncanny…

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