Ghost writer

I was out in town on Friday night...the first Halloween in years that I've not been at home, or guiding a small skeleton and a little devil around our neighbours' doors (M had that pleasure this year). Me and a friend went to see the Samhuinn fire festival, by the same people who do Beltane in May. It turned out to be a bit of a damp squib...impossible to see anything (what little I could see consisted of women dressed in scanty red outfits dancing around in a vaguely choreographed fashion), and appalling acoustics. Not to mention the biting cold. The pleasure of the evening, however, came from the costumes of the spectators. Like my sister (Fragments), I hadn't been aware of a growing trend for adults to dress up on Halloween. We stopped for a drink in the City Cafe, a favourite haunt (groan) of me and my friends in our clubbing days, and I felt underdressed. And a bit on the old side, as most of the clientele were in their early 20s. Most were dressed according to a pirate theme. First prize, however, must go to a tall, skinny, male goth/punk, with his short, spiky hair, his black drainpipes and leather jacket, and the most beautifully executed skeleton make-up. I, on the other hand, in the clothes I'd been wearing for work, could have been a ghost, for all the attention I attracted.

Dodos and peacocks

Looking at the wonderful Sartorialist blog got me thinking about - surprise! - clothes. A few years ago, an Emporio Armani outlet opened in Glasgow. Then, and now I think, the only one in Scotland. Of all designers, I find Armani's work the most consistently beautiful, and have for a long time yearned for an Armani suit...dark blue, fluid, no embellishments, trousers not skirt. To be worn with sleek hair and minimal make-up. I vowed not to enter the Glasgow shop until I had enough money to buy one. I still haven't been in the shop, although I've probably been in a position once or twice since I began working to fulfil my dream. It's not that I've given up on the dream; more that my life didn't turn out in a way that would allow an Armani suit space to shine...or glow subtly and beautifully. I do a job that means that it would simply look odd to gad about the place in an expensive suit...I manage no one, I'm at the bottom of the ladder. The only meetings I go to I'm merely a silent participant at the table. There's a sort of unwritten rule that I must remain semi-invisible. You might think a dark blue Armani suit would blend in well - it's hardly a garish Versace number - but I know the way people dress at my work, and it's for the most part dowdy and low key. And at the moment, I'm too self-conscious about my body shape to shine.

Diary made

A certain someone closely related to me suggested that it was perhaps about time I blogged (that must be an official verb by now), to which I replied that either I had to blog prolifically or not at all. One must either cultivate an audience and keep them tantalised with regular juicy morsels from one's interesting life or not bother. I've opted for the latter, mainly because it simply hasn't felt like anything worth blogging about has happened.

Not that that stops other people. I regularly read - and thoroughly enjoy - two blogs (GP and LP), but with a few rare exceptions most blogs seem to be nothing to write, er, home about. When I write, I can't help but think how I must come across, both to people who know me and people who don't. Perhaps the key is to write for myself, purely for the pleasure of self-expression. But if I wanted to do that, I would write a journal.

So, I'm not quite sure why I'm doing this again, but to make someone special happy (that's you, LP), I shall attempt to write more frequently, and to be more conscious in my daily life of blog-worthy occurences. I shall also post more regularly on "The Peas n Me"; in fact, I'm going on there now to post a little tiny anecdote.

And I'd appreciate any tips on how to attract traffic to my site...for example, what are these tags of which you speak?