Although I had a major gittishness event yesterday morning, trying to sort out my permalinks. WHY don’t they work? WHY? WHY? HELP ME SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME HELP
The only problem I have with the ‘blogging from a small Norfolk village’ concept, is that I have a horror of turning into Will Buckley.
Our paths so far have been very similar. He left the metropolis and moved out into the Norfolk countryside for a better quality of life, and to work from home.
He then started to write a column about it, for The Observer. Again, a parallel, although editors of the national press’s ‘media pages’ (and God, I’ll write about them one day) might like to note that my circulation is growing somewhat faster than The Observer’s, year-on-year, in percentage terms.
It was gentle humour. Slightly smug, but inoffensive. The sort of articles that you’d find in a rubbish local magazine, under a crap header like: ‘Will Buckley explores the lighter side of…’ or ‘Will Buckley takes a wry look at…’
Unfortunately for him, journalists don’t write the headlines. Bored sub-editors fulfil this task, and as it’s one grillion percent more interesting than the rest of their job, they go to town occasionally. So when the first article appeared under a banner the gist of which was ‘In the land of the three-headed cousin fuckers’ there was a certain amount of local interest.
The subsequent retraction/explanation/apology was a masterpiece of contrition and ‘please like me again’, and I warmed to the man immensely. I understand that people speak to him now, and his kids have stopped being wedgied at school.
You can see my dilemma. I make a big thing of life round here being uncomplicated, friendly and rural and immediately it sounds like I’m taking the piss.
Nothing could be further from the truth. I like uncomplicated, friendly and rural. Uncomplicated, friendly and rural is good. Not in a sneery ‘isn’t that quaint’ metropolitan way. If you want that, go read somebody else.
Oh dear, I’ve gone all serious. Better write something funny tomorrow.