Sunday, 8 August 2010

An Appeal on behalf of the Mikey No Mates Society ...

In a fit of egomania, I visited this site today, just to count the number of followers I have - its not that sad, is it? - anyway, it still doesn’t take long and I certainly don’t need a calculator (but thanks to all six of you that care). In an attempt to fill another few seconds, I looked at the post list. There are 31 days in July and I wrote 21 posts. I would often write two at a time. This isn’t bragging - all you have to do is try to read them to understand that this might not be construed as a good thing.


I used blogging as a special friend and told the blank page what I had learnt and what I was thinking. It was kind of a diary of my travels and it unnerves me slightly to hear some people have actually read them. In contrast, August has been a barren month so far, a month where the tumble weed blows and in the distance a bell rings in solitary, deliberate loneliness; barely audible above the sound of the desert wind.


I have nothing to say .... apart from that I have nothing to say ..... and I don’t have many followers. I could tell you about my testicle injury caused by a Wiltshire Horn traveling at what felt like the speed of sound. I could tell you my fat lambs did better this week than last. I could be a proper blogger and moan about the high heid yins in the Scottish Government changing the rules on SRDP the day after the deadline for submitted applications. I could even embarrass myself with the story of giving Reserve Champion to completely the wrong exhibitor in the Any Other Breed of sheep class at Perth Show (that WAS embarrassing .... obviously, I just ran away and left someone else to deal with it). But its not the same.


This is the “come-down” I heard about from some of the previous Nuffield Scholars. Its hard to adjust. To come home is easy but also very difficult. You find yourself desperately clinging on to the ideals you developed in six weeks of stimulation whilst figuring out how you could possibly enact them in reality and in the here and now.


If you feel sorry for me, maybe you are slightly saddened by my plight, all you have to do is become a follower. You would make a shallow, egotistical man desperate for reassurance, very happy. Its the electronic equivalent of a hug.

4 comments:

Caroline said...

As I'm already a follower I can't help you out on that front, but I always find a blog comment makes me feel slightly more loved, so here you go. I want to hear more about the Perth Show story anyway - did you manage to have your trousers done up properly this time? x

Michael Blanche said...

Hi C, I feel better now - thanks!! Think I'm getting a bit desperate/insecure/mental if I'm blatantly begging for followers. Its ok blogging when the main aim is to keep a diary, just when you are home you need to know you are not writing to a wall of brick construction. Tried Google Analytics but it scared me sooo much. At Perth Show noone was laughing, just feeling sorry for me - so trousers still could have been revealing with just a different reaction!

Rona Amiss said...

We all love you Michael, but maybe to make you feel better you could invent some followers. Is that all the travelling finished? I am still trying to get motivated to go outside Devon.

Michael Blanche said...

Hi Rona. Inventing followers is a feasible option, but the love would be hollow and hugging myself just seems slightly wrong. Travel not over but don't know where and when. Its all very up in the air. Things have gone a bit pear shaped here - living in a caravan at the sheep, on my lonesome with no running water but plenty of carbon monoxide. Its a long story!