A good friend has sent me an email, wondering why her recent comments haven’t been published. I’ve written back apologising, and saying that, simply, I don’t know. I’ll make it clear – I have never barred anyone (I don’t know how and I don’t need to know how) and I’ve never deleted any comment unless it’s clearly spam. Indeed, I’ve even left the odd spam if it’s amused me.
Sometimes, spam is posted repeatedly on old posts, which is a nuisance for people who’ve left comments and receive updates, as well as for me, so I do have comment moderation on for posts over 20 days old, and I check it every so often, but not necessarily weekly. But it’s not deleted until I know that it’s not from a friend, and I give the benefit of the doubt if there is any.
Indeed, darlings, you can be as rude as you like to me, and I’ll take it on the chin and won’t be offended. Like punching jelly it is, insulting me. For a start, you’re probably right, and anyway, it’s a free country (ish) and your opinion is as valid as mine. I’m not so keen when my friends disagree – I mean, disagreement is fine as long as it doesn’t get personal, but if you’ve ever noticed my anxious attempts at peacemaking between friends who are having a spat, you’ve probably been amused. I’d aim to peacemake, but I’d still only delete a comment if it were really offensive, and then I’d tell you and explain why. Swearing is fine, by the way. Preferably not at someone, however. That isn’t really on, is it?
Anyhoo, back to the Life of Z. BTW, do you love Life of Pi or wonder why anyone likes it? – such a wonder is only valid if you read it all, I will add. I lolled. Okay l(ed)ol, when the boat touched land and it explained everything.
We drove to Kent for lunch a week ago – it was a long and hot drive for lunch, but we had a good time with old friends. The Sage expansively invited them back when they’re in this direction for our sale in -eeek! – eleven days time. Should that have an apostrophe? Probably. Pfft.
Anyway, the thing is, the room our china, small collection as it is compared to theirs, is in is a room that he has taken over with Stuff. Honestly, I never go in there. There’s (this is embarrassing) a double bed that was used once, for guests at Weeza’s wedding, which was five years ago. It is now, as I found a while ago, used as a table. Honestly, my lovely Sage is even more untidy than I am, by a long, long way.
So, I tackled him this evening, asking in the politest way possible how he’s getting round this situation. Truly, no one is going in this room. Barely me. So, we have negotiated a solution. I was so polite and tentative, you wouldn’t recognise me. “I’m not nagging, really”. “No, I know” – I’m so entitled to nag. But, you know, he’s sort of perfect in my eyes. That is, who wants anyone who’s better than they are?
This reminds me of someone – well, sometwo. A young Indian couple I used to know. Both lovely. He was especially delightful and everyone loved him. I did, everyone did, young and old. He was totally, genuinely, lovely. He desperately wanted to marry her – but she held back. She was besotted too, but she had a practical bent. “Thing is,” she said, “he’s perfect. If we have a row, everyone will side with him. I can’t match up. He’s completely genuine, but he’s perfect and I’m not.” It was true.
I knew her family and not his, so I haven’t kept in touch. She married someone else in the end, I do hope he’s found someone who adores him as he deserves – which is no criticism of his former girlfriend. Perfection is hard to live up to. So, I make sure that the Sage doesn’t have to. Heh. But nor do I. Which is fine.
If your comments haven’t been published, do let me know. I’m so sorry – it isn’t me. I don’t actually know what the problem is, but I’ll ask Blogger.