I've just said goodbye to daughter, son-in-law and grandson, so I am feeling a bit bereft.
One interesting thing Daughter said while she was here was that she really doesn't like to read writer blogs/websites. 'When I read a good book, I am transported to another world, I live there for a time, inside the mind of others, in another place - and I think what a wonderful person this author must be to be able to write like that.
'And so often when I have gone to their blog or website, what do I find? A self-absorbed, whining individual, full of themselves, totally unattractive, sometimes seriously peculiar - and I think to myself, "This is the person who wrote that wonderful book?" Nope, I'd rather not know.'
Oops. Here we writer-bloggers are, madly blogging away and fondly imagining ourselves to be promoting our books by showing how articulate and witty and wild we are - and all the time we come across as a mob of whingeing meglomaniacs?
I shall now post a couple of photos taken during our holiday on Langkawi Island - neither of which show me. Just to be sure you all realise I am not totally self-absorbed. Proving I am not peculiar might be harder.