Writing agony aunt columns by committee (Who's the goat of your life?)

Okay, so I write an agony aunt column for Natural Health magazine. Each month I’m given a dilemma and I have to come up with some sage words of wisdom for the unfortunate soul in distress. Don’t ask me how this came about as I too doubt my credentials for this role.

Anyhow. This month’s dilemma rolled in.

"Dear Jane. I have a really good relationship with a genuinely kind, nice man. I know I should count my blessings but I just can’t stop thinking about my ex – who is quite the opposite, wild and unpredictable. I can’t get him out of my head. What should I do?" 

Hmm.  So I asked Adrian.

‘She won’t ever be happy with him,’ he said firmly. ‘And, anyway, she wants to have her cake and eat it too.’

What a bizarre expression that is.  So I Googled it and discovered that pretty much every language going has some kind of variation on the theme of having it both ways.  And, weirdly, the vast majority involve either cakes or goats.  For instance, we have…

On the goat side…

Czech: Aby se vlk nažral a koza zůstala celá - The wolf is full and the goat stayed whole.

Serbian: Не можеш да имаш и јаре и паре - You can't have both goatling and money.

Bulgarian: И вълкът сит, и агнето цяло - Both the wolf is full, and the lamb (pseudo goat) is whole.

Polish: Wilk syty i owca cała - The wolf is full, and the lamb (goat) - whole.

And on the cake side…

Hebrew: אי אפשר לאכול את העוגה ולהשאיר אותה שלמה - you can't eat the cake and keep it whole.

Dutch: Jij wilt kiezen én delen - You want to both pick (a part first) and split (the cake)

Swiss: Du chasch nit dr Füfer und s Weggli ha - you can't have the five cent coin and a Swiss bread roll.

In Persian the phrase apparently goes ‘To have donkey and God as well’ but let’s not go there, huh?

Anyhow…I posted this on Facebook and a lively debate arose around goats and cakes.  And then I thought, hey…let’s see whether my friends can shed some light on this poor woman’s problem.  So I asked.  And they replied.  Like this…

Tommy:  First, do no harm.  (I can't get the Withnail quote out of my head... "We mean no harm")

Marek: Second, keep doing them both.  (Men, huh?)

Susie: I would first ask her what about excites her? What traits did she find attractive? Did he break it off or did she? Is there unfinished business? I also don't think someone should have to count their blessings to stay in a relationship. Either she's happy there or not.  (Oooh, sensible).

Me: Okay, keep talking. I'll put the kettle on.  I need 500 words.

Susie: Okay... Is it a good relationship in her mind or is it good because of what she thinks other peoples' opinions will be? How can she get her new guy to exhibit some of the traits of her ex that she likes- like unpredictability?  Maybe she needs to start being unpredictable. (Which does not mean I am telling her to dump new guy and go back to ex) but rather experiment with new things that give her a thrill. (hmm)

Susie: And I am wondering whether the sex is good? Cause maybe that's the issue?  (Who knows?)

Marek: Jesus…

Trisha: I think she should organise to do something wild and unpredicable with her genuinely kind, nice man, why wait for someone else to be wild and unpredictable? (can you teach an old goat new tricks?)

Susie: Hmm…so you’re not liking my answers, Marek?

Marek: that was not a comment, Suzie, but a suggestion. :o)

Susie: lol

Sarah: What she really has here is two relationships which is actually rather greedy of her. She should stop wondering which one is right and start looking at her need to covet both. She wants her cake with jam on. And is behaving like a randy goat. :-)  (Ooh, you tell her, the randy goat!)

Marek: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7SxklIZBBIM&feature=youtu.be

Susie: aaah

Theo: All very interesting and I can see where some of you more sensible, considerate people are coming from, but I'm really more interested where the goats fits into all this, should someone be thinking about calling the RSPCA?

Marek: The goats fit…The goat fits into the cake.

Me: She wants her cake with jam on? Missed that one earlier.  This is all great stuff, people, I’m gonna go down hard on this greedy goatish bitch.

Charlotte: Her preoccupation with her ex has nothing to do with his personality or the difference between him and her current boyfriend. He's still in her mind because for some reason or other, sub-conciously the former relationship is unfinished business. Perhaps he dumped her and never quite explained why. Perhaps she finished with him when she was in fact still in love with him. (That's the thingy with these darn dilemmas - you never know the full story).

Susie: I always wanted to have an agony aunt colum.  (At this rate, mine will be up for grabs)

Marek: The goat (we don't know her name) could leave boat... both cakes and travel offshore... And they wood... would sing: 'Pie, pie, Hollywood Hills...' http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SCB01p0pBs0

Charlotte: Me too, Susie! (Umm, split it between you?)

Anne: Bottom line is who will treat her the way she wants to be treated. At the end of the day, when she's settled down, which one is going to be there in the evening for her and the kids? You can be happy with excitement once in a while. You can't be happy without kindness and loyalty in your life. Excitement is good, Commitment is a whole lot better.  (yeah but...)

Charlotte:  But unless the ex is interested in taking her back, then it's rather a moot point, surely? Sounds like she's in a rebound relationship and still holds a torch for the ex.... Next!

Sarah (different one): I think she should take up baking, crack some eggs, cream some sugar, fling some self raising flour about and see if her new man does the wild and unpredictable act of licking the bowl. :-)  (okay, so that made me snort out loud)

Veronica: She's fucked, basically. It'll be about the sex. It always is. But the ex won't make her happy. She needs to go cold turkey and live without the danger. Sadly you can't turn kind, nice men into bad boys that make you scream - you can't 'plan' to be wild and unpredictable - but maybe she can learn to value security and comfort over the rollercoaster that is her ex. Kindness and loyalty, as Anne pointed out, are far more enduring and nourishing. Tough call, though. She needs to treat it like an addiction. One day at a time. And keep herself busy. And delete his number from her phone. And not drink too much.  (Now there speaks a sensible woman).

Philip: She should buy a goat and start baking her own bread. She will then be too busy to wonder what she should do. If that doesn't work, get another goat. (er, okay)

Marek: And milk it good. (right)

Philip: Forgot to ask, is she pregnant by the wild n crazy guy? If so, his job is done & Pappa Predictable's turn begins.  (Jesus)

Marek: But then the barking syndrome would apply.

Philip: Marek, do you mean somebody might ask, ‘Who let the dogs out?’

Marek: Sort of.

Philip:  Jane, I know you want a 500 word answer, but beyond buying a goat, or goats, there is not much you can tell the woman, especially if she is using birth control measures. Perhaps cold ocean bathing and buying an ereader might help. (Fifty Shades of Grey and a goat?)

Adele: This isn't about the ex. She's just bored in general. Tell her to get a life!  (Yessir!)

Ashen:  I'd go for goats. They're a wonderful addition to the here and now factor in your life. Which reminds me, I need to find the story I wrote about finding a goat - having come out of a similar situation.  (Which sounds like a story in itself) 

Marek: Everybody needs a goat in his life. What’s the goat of your life?  (Well, what is? :) 

So, there you have it.  Cakes, goats, dilemmas and agonising by committee on Facebook.  Now, over to you...what do YOU think the goat should do?  

Facebook? Fakebook? Freakbook? F***book?

So Facebook has plans for a $10bn share offering?  443 million people log on daily and Mark Zuckerberg has got first one, then two billion in his sights. That’s kinda freaky. I’ll be honest, I have a love/hate relationship with Facebook. Mainly I detest it. In fact, it pretty much pisses me off on a daily basis.  On the whole, it’s just the sheer inanity of the thing. The same funny pictures doing the rounds; the same quizzes and memes; the same plugs for books and services; the same ‘Yippee, my book is now #523 in true life dog stories (toy breed subsection) on Amazon.’  Oh God, does that sound horribly cynical?

I hate the way the ads show that they’re monitoring your likes and dislikes, grabbing your information and squirreling it for future use. I don’t get the causes thing. Yes, I’m against child pornography; no, I don’t think homophobia is particularly clever; but how does my clicking a button on Facebook change anything?  Where’s the practical change here?  I guess you'd argue it's about raising awareness but, really, is it more that it make us feel better; that it's a way of showing we’re decent people, part of the tribe?? Am I missing something? Please tell me if so.

I hate the invasiveness of its apps – the way it nabs what people are listening to on Spotify or what they’re reading in the Guardian and spews it out to all and sundry.  I can’t stand the ‘join my event’ malarkey.  Sometimes I sit with a glazed expression, watching the moving sidebar thingy, with the lols and pmsls and endless cute kittens and inspirational quotes and just feel nauseous.  Like, like, like, like.  Bleugh, bleugh, bleugh, bleugh. Don’t get me started on games.  I. Don’t. Do. Games. No, not Farmville, not Bejewelled, not Scrabulous, not none of ‘em. Not noway. Not nohow.  I did my stint on Farmville for James and that cured me for life.  Jeez, am I grumpy old bag or what? J

lightwork.org 

So, why do I stay on it?  Why don’t I just delete the whole thing?  Well, I did…a while back.  And then realised I was cutting off my nose to spite my face.  Because sometimes it’s damn useful.  For example, my fitness gurus put updates on their FB profiles so yesterday I avoided a wasted trip down to the river for kettlebells cos I knew that Trisha couldn’t get down cos of the ice. Handy. Equally there are family members that, for some strange (but I’m sure good) reasons all of their own, don’t do other forms of communication – so I can keep in touch with them in a surreal sort of way – even if talking to a Buddha rather than a real face is slightly weird. And other people I love are on it and it’s a way to keep in touch with them.

One thing I did a while back was clean out my timeline. Totally. Removed pretty well all my pictures too. It’s not that I had anything particularly incriminating or shameful on it – just that I realised I didn’t want my entire life, likes and dislikes available on-line. This blog is quite enough angsting and splurging and making an arse of myself!

Sometimes I do wonder if it’s a young thing.  My son loves Facebook.  He says it makes him feel part of the pack.  Hmm, maybe that’s why I don’t like it. I figure it’s a good way to introduce him to the potential pitfalls of the Internet. I don’t hang over him all the time but he knows that Adrian or I might drop in unannounced any time and that seems to be enough to keep him from going crazy. If one of his friends posts something a bit…inappropriate, it’s a good opportunity to talk about stuff.  Though of course it begs the question, do you mention it to the child’s parents? Hmm.

I also drummed into him that he must ONLY accept friend requests from people he knows in real life. Okay, so you could say that’s hypocritical of me but there’s a helluva difference between worldweary old me and a 13-year old lad. I’ve tutored him in the avoidance of viruses and phishing scams. Do I let him on my timeline? No. Because my list is relatively wide open, sometimes people publish stuff I wouldn’t want him to see.  Likewise, I don’t accept friend requests from under-18s.  Of course, if your account is family-only (or you don't have friends like mine), that’s something quite different. 

James is pretty canny. His friends aren’t always so switched-on.  I think I told you the story of one lad who came over and boasted he had a coupla hundred friends.  When I took a closer look my hair nearly turned white.  We did a lot of unfriending that afternoon. 

I keep an eye on the addiction thing too.  Facebook addiction is, apparently, a real syndrome. Yup, 'they' researched it. Take the test... 

Are you suffering from FAD?  If your answer is straight No, then answer the following questions honestly:

• The first (or second) thing that you do when you log on to Internet is check your Facebook page.
• You constantly change and update your status and Wall updates.
• You are so involved into the Facebook World that you even post things like “ going to sleep “ or “ I am tired “.
• As soon as you click a picture, you rush to post it Online on your Facebook albums.
• You become agitated or restless if you can’t get Internet to check up your social networking updates.
• You feel too delighted or too sad depending upon the comments you receive on your profile or pictures, comments etc.

Sometimes, however, I feel a weird rash of fondness towards Facebook.  Someone or other will pop into my head and I’ll trundle over and see what they’re up to; maybe I’ll leave them a message; maybe not.  It’s just nice to know they seem to be okay (though, really, who ever knows?). Or they do the same for me and it brings a smile to my face.  Or someone will appear just as I’m thinking about them and a spontaneous exchange occurs. It’s less formal than a phone call or an email – just a quiet stroke or a bit of fun and banter.  I also take a childish pleasure in dismissing the ads on my page, citing ‘against my views’ for pretty much everything. 

The new timeline thingy?  Well, it doesn’t rock my boat but not much I can do about it. Given I only have about six posts at any time on my entire account, it’s never going to be a thing of beauty. J  I’ve found pinterest for beauty, anyhow – you’re welcome to follow – click the widget on the sidebar or here. 

But, back to Facebook.  I guess what I think is what I always think. Each to their own. Whatever suits you.  Maybe the bottom line is use Facebook, rather than allow Facebook to use you.  And, if you have children, keep a beady eye.

What do you think?  Love it or loathe it?


Oh, and btw, my anti-guru loves Facebook and always likes...new friends. So say hell o.  

Connections...

Did you look out for signs over the Twelve Days?  Those inbetween, interstitial, liminal days?  Did you snatch a glimpse of the year ahead by paying attention to the oracles all around you?  I did.  Well, of course I did.  What did I see?  Let’s not go there.  Let’s just say it’s going to be an interesting year. 

One word kept coming up again and again. Connection.  And one symbol kept coming up over and over.  A web.  It culminated in the beautiful image Caitlin Matthews posted on Facebook of not one, but several webs, webs within webs.  The Web of Wyrd.  That links everything, everyone.  Touch the edge of a web and the reverberations are felt throughout the entire structure.  For yes, we are all connected.  Each and every one of us.

I watch the interwebs (there we go again) and I see people who are scared; who are worried about the world. They are scared about what we’re doing to the environment; to the economy; to one another. And they have good reason to be concerned.  We are doing terrible things to our beautiful world.  We do terrible things to one another. We do terrible things to ourselves.

Several months back I remember saying to Marek, ‘How can we save the world?’ and he replied. ‘We can’t. We can only save ourselves.’  And I thought about it and I figured he was absolutely right.  For, truly, you can’t ever change other people. You can only change yourself.  I'm not talking about being selfish; about ignoring what is going on in the world - far from it.  It's simply that you cannot force people to change; you cannot make them see the world your way. No matter how much you would love them to do so. 
In Symphonic Bridges, Marek puts it like this...
"I wish my parents would choose to join me in my spiritual exploration. I wish they would decide to take up the rejuvenation and longevity. The latter  doesn’t make sense without the former, of(f) course. I wish my mother would learn to swim and ride a bike finally. Even at the age of eighty or something. I wish I didn’t think that I should have rather used Simple Past tense after all the above ‘I wish’s’. Wishful thinking… 

Wishing is all I can do really. I can’t even persuade my sons that eating meat is bad for them. Will they blame me in the future for my not being strict enough with them about it now. If they ever go on vegetarian diet. Maybe I should just make them give up this barbarian habit. But wouldn’t it be a violation of their freedom of choice? We all have free will. Though freedom ends where our decision would lead to hurting other people.

Therefore, I choose to avoid enforcement of any ‘spiritual imperatives’. Instead of telling my wife, children, parents and other people what they have to do to live a better life, I just keep setting a good example. That’s what I believe it is anyway."

And that's just talking about simple things like diet.  We're contrary creatures - the moment someone says we 'should' do something, we tend to want to do the polar opposite.  Look at the storm in a teacup today over the government telling us how much alcohol we should be drinking - or rather not drinking.  Look how defensive the US becomes over genetically engineered food or carbon emissions.  We don't like being told off.  
But if we all changed…?  If we all became alchemists…?  If we all saw beyond the greed and the need and the fear and the defensiveness?  Oh then, then…who knows what would happen?  Remember the tale of the hundredth monkey?  

And at Zumba the other night, Debbie played this as our cool-down track…

And this morning, on Twitter, lovely Melpomene played a Cat Stevens track which made me think of this…

And this…

Yeah, it always adds up to one thing…  Love.  Just Love.  

Frankie Sachs

I’m gonna hand over to Frankie Sachs today.  Cos Frankie has the words I don’t have…

I met her on Authonomy.  A couple of things she wrote just melted me.  And then we got talking on Twitter.  She’s got that combination of traits I find so deeply alluring – intelligence, passion, humour, honesty, courage. She often says what I’m thinking – but says it without the waffle and the crap.  Anyhow.  If you love visceral gritty gutsy writing read her stuff here and here.  But, be warned, she don’t hold back. If you blanch at blood; if you’re squeamish about sex; if swearing makes you sweat – just don’t go there. Okay?

From The Amazing Frankie (wolverine poet)

"28 November 2011

There’s whole a lot of meta tumbled down the rabbit-hole of my consciousness lately. It’s a churning mass of sticky, swollen thoughts, and I feel like, if only I can separate them, I’ll be able to see how they all relate. My gut says they do relate.

How the reader as much as the writer imbues written words with their meaning, and what responsibility the writer and reader each bear in shaping that meaning; how we judge and relate to people/events/ideas based on tiny scraps of incomplete information; the pressure to shut up and suck up and fluff up versus honesty; popularity versus integrity; how reality is an individual experience of subjective perception and how much of it we just fucking make up.

Self-perception, perception of other, self-perception of other’s perception of self and its effect on self-perception. What am I saying, and what are you reading? And do I mean what you think I mean? And if I don’t, which meaning is right?

Is there a right?

God, there are so many mirrors in here and I am trying to find my way out and I think there’s a scary clown in here too. I think it’s me.

Do you like me, do you really like me?

Does it fucking matter? (Should it?)

Ghosts in the Machines

by Frankie Sachs

In the future (maybe)
they'll cull the DNA of a personality
from shards trapped in ether.

fragments
          Facebook and MySpace
          snapshots of defunct message boards
          abandoned blogs
          the Twitter archives of the Library of Congress.

Our Jurassic mosquitoes in digital amber.

After electron regenesis
will we remember 
the things we didn't say?

November 15 2011

Catching the reflection of myself in someone else’s mental image and realizing that the Frankie they see is not the person I feel inside my skin shakes me. It surprises the hell out of me that anyone notices me enough to form an opinion. I’m just one little monkey with a typewriter, after all.

Someone out there believes I see the world in black and white. The Frankie that lives in my head doesn’t see black and white. Not even shades of gray. In my head the world is a peyote rainbow and I feel every goddamn coruscating band like a sandstorm.

How does Frankie of the Rainbows become someone else’s Frankie the Absolutist? Fucked if I know. But I can imagine.

And I imagine it’s because I try very fucking hard to write with passion and conviction. Always. I try very fucking hard to live with passion and conviction too. It’s not so easy these days. I’m soul weary and it goes all the way to the bone and I wonder how much more caring I can do. I used to be such a fighter.

That girl, she never backed down from anything. She never lost a fight because she believed with all her heart that to win, you just have to fight harder. Which is true.

Except when it isn’t.

The world wasn’t black and white then, either. That girl, she had a trick. If you talk the talk and you walk the walk, nobody knows you’re scared as fuck on the inside. Sometimes you can even fool yourself. Even when you’re almost undone, you’ve gotta keep on walking and talking to keep the wolves away. The alternative is unthinkable.

Maybe someone believing Frankie on the Page is the totality of Frankie the Person is not the worst thing that could happen; maybe it means what’s on the page keeps the wolves away."

Thanks, Frankie.  Jane xxx

Like, like, like...nice, nice, nice

I’m sick of being sick of things.  It’s too darn exhausting.  I’ve tried the ranting malarkey and it felt quite cathartic at the time (I can see how people get off on all the fist-waving) but enough is enough. I’m done (for now, anyhow).  So I thought I’d try liking things instead.  

I went back through my blogs looking for nice posts to shove onto Twitter to show my good intent.  Quickly ran out.  Then I sat and wondered.  What do I like?  What do I really like?  Actually, quite a lot of things - y'know, raindrops, kittens, brown paper packages tied up with string...that kinda malarkey....    

But then my eye fell (ouch!) on this little wheel thing, the thing that looks like a Frisbee on steroids, that arrived in the post the other day. The Powerspin, which is apparently ‘a revolutionary new fitness product set to banish ‘bingo wings’.  Allegedly it’s ‘the easy way to fabulous arms’.  

Aha, now that’s something I like.  A lot.  Arms. Fabulous arms. Fabulous? Nah, they don’t even have to be fabulous. Nice arms. When I say nice, I mean firm, long, lean muscles – not the pumped-up horror-shows you sometimes see down the gym.  

Nice.

Not nice.

I am even rather fond of my own pair cos, though I say so myself, they are rather nice: long and lean (if a bit pale and freckly and scarred), and (*has a quick shake*) nope, not even the slightest tremor of a bingo wing.

Anyhow. This Powerspin thing.  You hold it up and gently rotate your arms so the ball ‘runs smoothly around the tube'.  As the ball ‘gains momentum’, you can make the workout harder by increasing the spin.  Hold it by your hip and it tones your forearms. Hold it up at your shoulder and it works the shoulder and triceps (bingo territory). Hold it vertically in front of you and you’re into the biceps. Turn it over and spin it at navel level and it works the core. Stick it up over your head and supposedly you would tremble your triceps again though, try as we might, we couldn't get the ball rolling up there. 
According to the press release it will firm up your arms and abs in just six minutes a day. Hmm. That's one long lean claim. 

Does it work? James and I have been at it since we came back from Wales and yes, if you keep at it long enough, you feel the burn. It certainly isolates the right muscles. I am not entirely convinced by the six minutes a day but, to be fair, I haven't tried it out over a long period of time and I didn't have the bingos to start with.  But what's really clever is that the device is kinda fun.  It doesn’t take a lot of room; it doesn’t require any kind of set-up; mercy me, it doesn’t demand batteries (unbelievable, huh?).  We just leave it lying around and, ten to one, one of us will pick it up and muck around with it for a bit. Yup, Adrian even had a go (muttering darkly all the time that it was a big con).

Actually it's not. Not really. However. Big proviso. Like any of these things, it’s only going to work if you put in the effort.

Is it the only way to get nice arms? Nope. Of course not. You can achieve the same results with free weights or by slinging a kettlebell around. In fact, you don’t even need to use any equipment at all – just rely on your own bodyweight.  Triceps dips will do it though they are boring as hell.  Planking will also do the job nicely, and you’ll get the added extra of rock-hard abs.  Not the low plank so much but upright plank seguing into sideways plank; nice bit of reverse planking.  Pilates will give you great arms (and great abs). Yoga will do the same - but these take time and a heck of a lot of commitment.  And we all want an easy fix, right?  But, to be honest, there is no such thing.  As any fitness instructor will tell you, you can't really spot-reduce. If you have big arms, you'll have to lose weight (pretty much all over) before it will drop off your arms.  But a gizmo like this can't do any harm and it will help to build up some muscle.  And that's nice eh?

reverse plank - in case you wondered.

Powerspin is so new that I can’t show you a pukka official video. We did make our own at home which was very funny indeed but it's refusing to load up (which isn't very nice of it).  But then again you would have had to turn your head to the side to see it (or view while doing a sideways plank) so maybe it's just as well.  Powerspin should be in the shops soon – check out the website for updates.  I might be able to nab a few samples to give away - so let me know if you'd be interested and I'll see what I can do. Cos I'm nice, y'know. 

PS - the fabulous (way beyond nice) Frankie has pointed out that the Powerspin has been seen in an earlier incarnation.  Thanks for alerting me to this clip... :)  Actually this put me into a reverie because the ginger cat looks very much like my old darling, Foot.  

Internet friends and lovers



Jeez, he looks grumpy!

Adrian is perplexed.  While he’s been in Moscow, I’ve been meeting my Internet pals.  He just doesn’t *get* my love of internet ‘relationships’.  Yes, he blogs, he tweets, he FBs – but only because he feels he ‘ought to’ for work.  He frowns at tweet-ups, he doesn’t remotely understand why I keep meeting people I haven’t, er, met.

‘It’s like online dating,’ he said, sitting on the end of the bed.  ‘Except without the sex bit.’ Shaking his head.  ‘I don’t get that either.’

‘Aha,’ said I, sitting up and adjusting the SP.  ‘Now, see, if I were single, I’d do that like a shot.’

‘God no.’ He shuddered. ‘It’s not natural.’

‘Oh come on.  It’s practical.’ I put down my coffee cup so I could wave my arms around. ‘Look. Imagine I don’t exist.  Nothing nasty – I haven’t died or anything.  I’m just Not Here. In fact, let’s take James out of the equation too and make it simple.  You live here. Alone. Who you gonna date?’

‘I’d move,’ he said briskly. ‘I’d go to…hmm….Bristol. I’d go to pubs and clubs…’

I raised an eyebrow.  ‘No, you wouldn’t.’

He shrugged.  ‘Okay, I’d go to pubs and museums. I’d stalk women in military museums.’  Dear God.

‘Right.  But say you couldn’t move.  Say you worked here?’  I named names. He looked alarmed.

‘See? It’s not easy once you’re out of your twenties.’ I keep saying this to my mate who just wants a nice man with a labrador.  She doesn’t buy it, the Internet dating thing – but then she doesn’t do Twitter or FB or anything other than the odd brusque email.  Maybe the world is divided into those who click and those who don't... ;)

‘And it’s the same with friends,’ I continued.  ‘I know lovely people here but I can’t always talk about the stuff I need to – about writing, about books, about mad spiritual/mystical stuff.  They’d think I’d gone bonkers.’  His turn to raise an eyebrow.

‘Hence online friends.’

‘Okay, I get that,’ he said.  ‘But then you go and meet them.’
‘Not all of them,’ I pointed out.  ‘But yeah, why not?’

See, I’m fascinated by people online and particularly by how online personae can be so different from RL.  I was talking about this with Jake and the lovely M (his wife) yesterday – how some people are exactly the same on and offline while others are, frankly, unrecognisable. 

‘Anyhow,’ said Adrian.  ‘If you were here alone, who would you shag?’ 

Shag?  Don’t you love the way women say 'date' and men say 'shag'?  He named names.  My eyes widened. 
‘Oh, I don’t know…’ I said with an evil smirk.

He lobbed his croissant at me. The SP neatly intercepted.  I grinned and picked up my coffee cup.

But, seriously…if you wanted to meet a partner, would you consider Internet dating?  Anyone tried it and a) loved it b) loathed it?

How many of your online friends have you met in real life? Were they how you imagined?   

And, before I go.  The ila competition.  I decided, in the end, that I couldn’t just give all that gorgeousness to one person. So I talked to ila and we split the prize.  The SP was the most fragrant creature I could find so he plonked his paw on these guys:  Zenandtheartoftightropewalking, Tiger Princess, Posie and Preseli Mags