Isn't it ironic that when you have a busy week and you have lots to write about, you have no time to do the actual writing? I’m trying to train myself to add things as and when but (minor moan incoming) when I think of things I don’t always have my laptop handy.
Here I am on yet another different platform. Ghost is based in Singapore and claims not to platform Nazis, so that's good. I don't think the weekly newsletter thing was working for me. I prefer my blogposts to be a little less confined, a little more spontaneous: a picture here, a little quote or reference there. I'm hoping that this will be my resting place.
What's prompted this turbo-charged navel-gazing, you may ask? Well, wretched Zuckerberg's decision to suspend fact checking across all of his Meta-platforms in another nod to right-wing populism hasn't helped. Ditto the signalling that Diversity, Equity and Inclusion (that's actually what DEI stands for, in case you only knew the acronym) is no longer a concern to the big corporations. Which is all very well if you're a white, straight, male billionaire, but not if you've spent your life on the backfoot like me.
Honestly, it's so depressing that all the things I said when I was consulting 30 years ago - on equality, positive action, flexibility, CHILDCARE, for goodness' sake - still need to be said. Not only that but now they're seen as a weakness and part of the WOKE MIND VIRUS as the tabloids and people like Liz Truss would have it. DEI matters for people like me and subsequent generations, people who have been marginalised and passed over because at best we are seen as different, outsiders, and at worse as an inferior and threatening subspecies. By extension it matters to the whole of humankind.
I want to walk away from all that and exit all Meta platforms right now. I want to say bye-bye, smell you later to FB, which allowed itself to be corrupted in order to manipulate suggestible electors and pervert democracy. I fret about the destabilisation of elected governments by some of the world’s richest men and their nonchalant support for the far right with not a care for those of us who are actually affected byt the animosity and hatred. I am worried by their data scraping to promote their AI functions.
And yet. My 365 photo and my dog and AGA groups are on there. I could do without Insta were it not for Ms Eliza's pages and the dogs. Good Boy Ollie makes me smile. I don't start my morning without checking on how little, abused, starved Alba is doing on Niall Harbison's page. How can I leave that? Not to mention What'sApp. (Come and find me on Signal) All these things have insinuated themselves into our lives like Jeeves shimmering into Bertie's dining room, and Jeeves is indispensable. What to do?
Substack isn't really working for me, truth be told. It's full of writers who feel, justifiably or otherwise, that they are ENTITLED to an audience, whereas nobody really cares what I've done with my week. This place seems better. I'll post here now.
You might remember that I lost my Wordpress blog and all my subscribers when it went wrong and nobody could offer any help. This weekend I've had help from close friends with sorting out the tangle of DNS and Nameservers and I'm infinitely grateful to them. You know who you are.
Here you will be expecting the promised ranking of my Christmas Lindt balls. You might be disappointed to discover that this will not now be included. Obviously Lindt is the unrefined person's idea of posh chocolate. (I was out for dinner with a friend last night who wrinkled up his nose at the very mention of the brand. He is Belgian, which is probably most of the reason.) Anyway, Lindt balls contain orangutan-murdering palm oil, which I have avoided for years, so they are henceforth BANNED from my mouth and I no longer think them worthy of ranking here. Instead, I shall be finishing my (Belgian) Wonky chocolates in earnest before starting my diet the week after next. I lost over a stone from August to December. I have regained 2.5kg in three weeks. It's fine but I'm feeling it.
Everyone has been talking about Gavin and Stacey over Christmas. I'd never seen it so I have been binge-watching it to know what everyone's been going on about. I have come to loathe every syllable uttered by the airheaded, selfish brat Stacey and, to my alarm, identify quite strongly with Pam, Alison Steadman’s mum character but perhaps that’s because my eldest lives thousands of miles away and every time he comes and stays the increased distance, both physical and emotional hangs in the air, a dark cloud of foreboding over me. I had to see him off at the airport on Monday. He now has a new house to go to and a wedding to plan. Each time I say goodbye to him it feels more final than the last. I managed to hold back the tears until he was through Security.
Anyway Gavin and Stacey: quite amusing in parts.
I mean, I know nobody's interested in my week, but it has been busy. On Thursday evening I took part in council candidate hustings where there were four candidates hustling for three ward seats. I came out fighting, taking Jess Phillips MP, VP Kamala Harris and Carmen the Cromer Crab as my role models.
I probably over-did the pugilism, to be honest, but I've worked hard to be selected as a candidate and, you know, people like me have to be twice as good to be considered. I did manage to convince the electors and I'll be fighting to win next year.
That's all from me today. I like this place. I hope you do too. Please share this if you like it and encourage everyone to read and subscribe.
G x
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