My Blog. Maybe it's like a diary or something? When I was a kid my mum "made" me and my kid sister keep diaries, like it was healthy or would make us better at English or something. Consequently it became a chore and I hated it, I wonder where they are now? Mum probably has them stashed somewhere, should ask her sometime - I suspect she used them to find out secrets we might be keeping from her, but she missed the plot big time there. I mean we were like 8 and 6/7 maybe and the mere thought of actually deceiving Mum seemed ludicrous - she just knew. Like we were autistic or something. Just one "what have you got to tell me then?" and my guts would just spill - I hadn't the logical capability to discern that she couldn't possibly know. Consequently there never needed to be any secrets in the diaries and when after about six months of daily entries saying "went to school, came home, watched Scooby Doo, went to bed" and a few "Mum shouted at Dad for taking our side" I guess we both abandoned the idea as mutually detrimental.

So, my blog as a diary? Don't think so. I could argue that the trauma of my first chronicular experience left me tainted and bruised, but honestly and forthrightly, I couldn't then and can't now be arsed.