So I have been inadvertently testing a theory out these last three weeks and I can now confirm that yes, when one stops writing regular posts on one’s blog, no-one reads it anymore. This may be common knowledge to 85 million bloggers out there, but I am stubborn and I won’t believe something until I have tried it out (admittedly I have already tried this out without knowing because I rarely used to check my reader numbers, but now I do check them and so am now known to weep in the kitchen corner on days when less than 40 people read my nonsensical waffle). Always having to try things out for myself has often proved to be a pain in the arse where my life is concerned, as things would have been a lot easier had I just listened to others and learnt from their experience. But no. I had to have my own experiences. Mostly painful and/or embarrassing and/or disappointing, only to realise that what so-and-so told me in the first place was true.
TRIED AND TESTED:
1/ Running on magic petrol. ie: Not stopping at the motorway services to fill up with petrol because baby was sleeping. I thought I had enough to get to the next service station. Or that my car would just float there if I ran out. It didn’t. That was an expensive one. If you run out of petrol on the French autoroute you have to remortgage your home to pay the fine and promise to give them your next born.
2/ Going to a concert dressed like a 24 year old, real age: 16… very high heels, tiny weeny mini-skirt, lots of eye make-up, not much else. I ended up snogging the lead singer of the heavy metal group ‘Acid Reign’ backstage. My boyfriend (who wasn’t there)’s best mate smacked the singer over the head with a plank and stopped things going any further.
3/ Inviting 2 different families for Christmas when Léonie was 2 weeks old and the upstairs wasn’t yet finished. I have some great memories of this Christmas, and some utterly exhausting ones too. It was a haze of no-sleep, festivities and kids screaming though the house. I can remember looking at L’Homme in a state of utter fatigue and him looking at me in a “I told you so” way but not actually saying it as I would have ripped the water boiler off the wall and dropped it on his face.
4/ Wearing a puff ball skirt. Nuff said.
5/ Being in love with 2 men at the same time. This wasn’t actually a decision I took. I wasn’t testing out a theory. It just happened. I accidentally tried it out. I thought it was an impossibility, but all of a sudden, there I was, in love with 2 blokes and not knowing what on earth to do about it. Although, if I’m totally honest with myself, I was probably slightly more head-over-heels crazy about one of them. The one I couldn’t keep, of course. Just the fact I couldn’t keep him made me crazier and crazier about him. Like eating a Flake and knowing that I won’t be able to eat another one until the next time I visit the UK. I love that Flake so much more than the Smarties because I can buy Smarties in any shop I want in France (they even sell them in lingerie shops). However, nowadays when I think of “the one that got away” I doubt things would have come to much even if I had managed to stuff him in my sock drawer and keep him there. One day he will be a big French film star and I shall reveal his identity and bump my daily reader statistics into the thousands. I have a calendar photo of him in the buff. That should do it.
But until that day, my daily reader numbers rely on me writing posts regularly. So here I am. I’m back. Ahoy there.