So, blogging was really supposed to be an experiment of sorts - an effort to see if I could actually keep a blog going and to see if anything ever happened in the life of a single country girl that could be worth recording. Well something has happened. A new, dark force is controlling my life and I am helpless in its toils. Blogging. It seems I am addicted.
I know this because yesterday, for no reason known to me, the loyal hound or any of the help manuals I consulted, my internet access became, well, inaccessible. I had a connection, my computer just couldn't acknowledge it. It was a techonological version of being sent to coventry. I hated every minute of it. I panicked that I couldn't see what my favourite bloggers were doing, and I worried that my non existent readership would abandon me at the first hint of my downfall. I had to get to a computer..... This isn't all that easy in the hills of Wales.
Internet cafes are in Wales. I mean, there is probably about 200 miles between each one and they only open on the third Friday of every leap year, but still, they exist. Just not within 200 miles of me. Yes, I could go to the library, but it is a mobile one that follows a top secret schedule and still catalogues books with a rubber stamp. Not a good internet option. So, who am I to ask? My nearest neighbour is terrifying; A colonial import with ADT (she is nearly 50 but I'm hoping she'll grow out of it) she tackles the lightest of social calls as a call to arms. This means asking her for anything at all, let alone her internet connection, can result in three sponge cakes, a bag of jumble and a tour of the garden before you have even mentioned the computer. Rule her out.
A two mile walk later and here I am. Wet through, but with access to my blog. Like a small child I have been reduced to running home to my parents to sob on their shoulder, steal their last biscuit and raid their office. I almost looked like the little girl in 'Little House on the Prairie' running through the grassy fields towards the loving arms of her parents. Well, apart from the fact that the fields have 5' high thistles in them and are filled with very slippery sheep shit. Oh, and the fact that my parents were asleep in front of the cricket and didn't even notice me break in and use their computer.
So, Hurrah for parents who have computers, hurrah for blogging, and hurrah for Wayne, the computer hero who is coming out after work, struggling up my mountain, through the myriad gates and past the demented herd of cattle to fix my computer and ensure that I am not deprived of my next blogging fix..... I'll be back.
The price of health
12 hours ago