They say that a week is a long time in politics. I don't know who 'they' is, or how 'they' would react when informed that I had deserted political cyberspace for 486 of those revolutionary time-spans. But I am back, hopefully this time to stay provided, of course, that I can stand the sound of my own voice.
So far on this blogging journey, I sense that I have been playing something akin to verbal ping pong with a brick wall; 'playing' because, for much of it, I treated it as a game. First up, it was a competition to out-blog a friend who had started a similar enterprise. His blog actually gathered followers. Then, to distract myself from this blatant defeat, I turned my attentions to sucking up to universities instead. Gone were the days of competing with my peers for competition's sake. I now had something to fight over, something worth fighting for. So I posted another series of contrived entries, this time designed to showcase my perspicacious temperament. As is now evident, this never really took off. All I managed was a feeling of smugness, tempered only by another rejection, this time by the universities.
But enough of this self-pity, because I have not come crying back. I return this time for myself; 'as if', I hear you cry. Well, sort of. I want to hone my writing skills which, as the above passage demonstrates, could do with some honing. A lot of honing even. If I were being particularly pessimistic, I might even hazard that I would be honing until my fingers dropped off.
To hone or not to hone, is a question I can ask, safe in the knowledge that no-one will reply, not even to criticise this appallingly arrogant pastiche. Welcome back, barrington, we have missed you lots.
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