She’s thinking about weddings as she sits on the park bench.  There is an inscription honouring a now dead couple who spent “happy hours in these tranquil gardens.”  A mad dog runs up to her with wild eyes and no collar and she tries to feign serenity  but her fear of rabid dogs and the background drilling of the workmen on the tennis courts is not helping.  She is having a sneaky smoke.  Trying to hide the fact from her adult offspring, as she gave up smoking five years ago.  Ahh the twists of fate such cliche’s that send the mind on twisted tales and knives. Forgive her these pretentious parlances she is a writer after all and a blogging one at that with an unknown audience of voyeurs.  She thinks about her depression and about marriage.  Perhaps if she married Mr. Lovelybones happiness would ensue, it would be the icing on the (wedding)cake of her miserableness. This time round it would be different.  Her first two marriages were ugly. But she wasn’t, she was beautiful. Unlike now.  Middle age and sagginess was creeping in relentlessly.

Last night Raph came round.  Emily and Moses read her journal and laughed loudly. They set up the blog and forced her into the 21st century.  If you don’t like it you can always do one of two things or both, stop reading or blame them.  I can happily pass on their details if you wish.  Anyway when Emily sees this she’s going to raid my room and destroy what’s left of my secret stash, so I’d better get busy rolling some more tobacco smokes now or surrender my one small selfish pleasure.  Anyway, I’m sure I can replace my selfish choices with others.  Now at least I have a blog and a voice to echo into the wilderness of the blogosphere.  My neurosis has a platform and a virtual audience.  Most of them remain silent in their rapture.  First she was excited, thrilled even, as Emily exclaimed, “Now you can say you’re a published writer!” Hmm, yep, not quite what I had in mind but hey better than nowt.

Raph gets his rapé pipe out and she blows some rapé, a Brazillian snuff from the rainforest, up his nose.  He reciprocates and they both laugh hysterically, and she is over manic now that she’s also had thirty virtual reader hits and an obscure life purpose in the world of Blog.