Pierre et moi

Clown: Hughes Leglise-Bataille

Frankly I don't think I am having enough sex with enough people to justify a blog. Since I now have a toe-hold in Blogland, I thought I would have a trawl through the more famous blogs to see what was out there. Golly. It seems to me that no-one will ever want to read this apart from those I love dearly. Who would want to read about my leek beds when they could be sliding around the satin sheets of a Girl with a One-Track Mind and Belle de Jour or the affairs of Washingtonnie or the Petite Anglaise? I am not even sure I should be wasting my time writing the blog when I could be reading up on my compatriots peccadillos. Maybe I could invent a torrid, strictly virtual amour just to spice up my tales of toddler tantrums and middle-aged grumps. Maybe I will call him Pierre and in those moments when I begin to bore myself, I shall whisper his name into the electronic ether. "Ah Pierre. I saw him today. His hand brushed against mine. The feeling was electric. "Eh oop, pet," he said. "A'reet then?"