Sunday, 10 February 2008

'I do my moves, I do my dance moves'

I began the Jones blog without a fanfare. And by that I mean, like, 'Hi, this my blog and, like, OMG, here's my first post. So, a bit about me. I like bichon frises and walking in the rain.'

I don't, by the way. I am allergic to dogs.

This could be because, despite publishing all this nonsense to the technoverse, I don't like a fuss. But mostly it was just really, really tricky. Goodbyes are hard, this much we all know. But hellos, it would seem, aren't so very easy either. What I kept coming back to, when I was trying to start the starting was: Is there a reason to write one of these things that doesn't amount to it just being a big old work of ego? Like, 'And this, dear, dear readers, is what I think about the world, and everything in it, and you must all read it and chuckle and nod and agree and wonder why you'd never looked at life that way yourself.'  

I don't know, that's what it feels like anyway. But for whatever reason, here I am, a proper, official blogger – only about 5 years after the rest of the universe, which is out of character for me. I'm usually an Early Adopter. I had an ipod before anyone else I know, apart from perhaps Boyd Hilton, and he probably got his free. I was the first person in Norfolk to wear leggings. But it's a lonely business for me, blogging. When I look at the grown-up blogs, they all have a long, long list of their blogging pals down the side. I do not. Like the best assassins, I work alone. That is, apart from my friend Eva and her blog, which is about the adventures of the world's cutest toddler, Little Ivy Green. Perhaps Eva's lonely little link will go forth and multiply until one day I am like brothers in blogging, over the mist-covered mountains, with the rest of the world. As I'm typing this, I keep thinking of Geraldine McEwan in Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit. 'Come in, Manchester, this is kindly light.'

Anyway, let's move on. In The Observer's woman's supplement today, there is an interview with the Flight Of The Conchords by Polly Vernon. I am very glad about this. But the best thing about it is there really seems to be no good reason for it. I thought it must be because they're showing the first series on terrestrial TV. But no. All they're plugging at the end of the feature is the DVD and an EP that were both out last year. I can only hope Polly Vernon thought, 'I really think we should do an interview with Flight Of The Conchords because... well, I just really want to meet them and find out what they smell like.' Because, after all, what is the point of going into journalism if not as a means to insidiously creep closer to famous people you fancy?

And because I  am still excited by learning how to post video clips:

Meanwhile, in a newspaper across town, I can't quite believe this headline.

This post was brought to you by my deep, abiding and unfashionable love of Paul McCartney.



Lady C said...

It is a good job that your blog has amused me to a high degree, as the earlier comments I wrote were erased by the complexity of forming a blog 'commentator' ID (aargh!).

So glad you finally starting 'publishing' your writing darling!

I have laughed out loud, much to the consternation of the social dyslexics surrounding me at the gym (where there is free web access).

Was at our alma mater this weekend, which reminded me of an earlier Jones publishing venture on the student paper - glory days x

eva said...

Why Miss Jones, welcome to the world of blogging, and thanks for linking me to yours, i think i'd better update it soon as the last entry was in July...we can't have the only link on your blog leading to a defunct one can we, it will make you look rubbish by association.

I like yours, keep it up! You is funny..