It’s a bit humbling, blogging. When people are friendly and interested enough to leave a comment, you find out that they are nicer and kinder people than you are. Apart from the weird ones, that is. Not long ago, a comment was left pointing out that paying a lot of money for a damaged piece of china was a bit pointless really. And so it is, unless you love the china in question and see why a person is that enthusiastic (more on a related subject sometime, I’m trying not to digress).
And a virtual friend in India said ‘wow’ when I mentioned, almost in passing, being a church warden. I think of it as a voluntary job, done wholeheartedly but entered into reluctantly as it involves work and responsibility I’d sooner not have taken on. But thank you for ‘wow’ howdoweknow, it has encouraged me to remember that I should appreciate the responsibility and not think about how quickly I can find another person to take over from me.
Another comment is one of mine in another blog. About flirting. Yes, now I’m in my 50s I reckon it’s okay to give in to the enjoyment – kept strictly within flirting not attempted seduction (eek!) bounds of course – while I’m obviously not worryingly up for it, past it but not embarrassingly so, and safe. And married men of my own age are entertained by it too, the unmarried ones are looking at and for women far younger, and young men, no I don’t go there, except, teasingly, in a comment box – and I received the reply that I was a tinker.
And I was. It’s all about the language of written kisses, that is, ‘x’s. I said (it was relevant) that it’s x x x that you need to look out for – and it is, it’s high-level flirtation. It is, of course, quite different from xxx from a friend, which is friendly; affectionate but like a warm hug. But I signed this comment
and that was certainly the action of a rascal. Or a tinker. Though not a femme fatale.