Buick City Complex

10 February 2005

Ferry or car?

7:45am first decision...

Ferry is 3 miles as the crow flies and involves a 1.5 mile drive to the village car park, 1200 paces up a windswept and crumbling Victorian pier (or a dangerous rattly pier train ride), 15 minutes pitching and rolling across Southampton Water on a glorified tug and a further 1000 paces to The Office. Cost £4.00

Car is 11 miles of first gear, stop/start queuing and frustration, parking at Leisure World Cinema and Club Complex then 1400 paces to The Office. Cost £6.00 (petrol £3.00/parking £3.00).

Car wins today, but only just. Cost is not a factor in the decision. The real choice comes down to comfort, personal space and traffic jams versus today's weather, hassle and unpredictable ferry delays. See, its a fine judgement each day.

CD player in the car versus MP3 player on the ferry. Oh, I won't go on...

Wrong choice today though. Transco had dug a giant pit in the A35 at Regents Park resulting in lane closures and gridlock. Managed to cross 3 lanes and hop off at Millbrook to skirt the roundabout as the flyover was at a standstill. Must have leap-frogged a few hundred places but the damage was already done. Journey of 11 miles took 65 minutes. Nice relaxing start to the day!

08 February 2005

Blog hopping as therapy

Hit the ‘next blog’ button for 15 minutes and you find the world is full of people ranting about: Knitting, Flower arranging, Church, Politics, College diaries and Shopping trips. Look closer and yes, there are comments littered across these postings from avid readers.

Just occasionally a real gem turns up. An author writes about coping with their daily trials and tribulations and omits the mundane. These frank accounts are fascinating, even inspirational.

A middle-aged housewife discloses she is terminally ill. A divorced mum sprinkles her site with proud photographs of her offspring amid well-penned tales of heroic struggles with single life. A bored office worker recounts a tale of erotic adventures.

The Blogger is compelled to share intimate emotions with a readership that will remain largely anonymous. Life changing events and decisions are described and analysed at length, giving the casual reader a candid account. But for every concerned soul who posts a supportive comment there must be a thousand who lurk, read and move on.

Maybe Bloggers write for personal consolation, yet unselfishly they provide therapy to their readers. “Look into my soul. This is how bad things are for me. I can't even tell my best friend this.” The comfort of telling your secrets to a host of strangers who you will never ever meet is matched by the reader’s relief that there are others out there who feel just like you.

Imagine posting a list of ‘100 Things About Me’ on your works notice board. The reactions are likely to be extreme. Yet you will read the same revealing list on any blog you hit at random. I guess you feel invincible writing for an audience who has never met you. How about these people who get twenty comments a day on their writing. They have been elevated to the dubious status of lifestyle gurus with their witty observations and endless lists of hilarious weblinks.

I have seen sidebars that include a ’’List of Bloggers I have met.” Reading a wry column for two minutes a day is one thing but would you actually want to meet that girl or guy with the artistic layout and the clever buttons? Surely the illusion would be shattered. The sophisticated, successful author only uses adjectives when the right noun doesn’t exist. But what if they were stuck for a well-turned phrase and revealed themselves to be just like you and me after all.