Astute readers (shurely shome mishtake) will have noted the demise of the Kingsley Web Log. For some weeks now, it contains only a brief notice saying that it has been closed due to lack of interest. Thank heavens none of the rest of you adopt that criterion for maintaining your little web sites.
In some ways this is sad – The King’s Blog was one of the best, possible the very best, village web sites around. It was independent of any local body (no, you silly sod, it was not constructed by ghosts) and combined local information with a refreshingly high proportion of complete nonsense. Since it closed, I have had no idea what has been going on in the village, and if it does not return may have to go out into the street to find out.
The blog was set up by a neighbour of mine who lives about 7 houses away. I have emailed him and exchanged posts on blogs far more often than I have spoken to him, and suspect that, on the odd occasion that I leave my property, he makes sure that he is not out and about. This is as things should be. Intimacy has no part to play in the daily life of rural North East Hampshire.
The blog was technically of a very high standard, and very easy to navigate. Over the last couple of years a few people have abused the openness of the blog to launch vindictive, illiterate and silly personal attacks on this neighbour. I am sure that this was a factor in his deciding to discontinue it.
The Kingsley blog was where I first adopted my fine sobriquet, and was an inspiration for me to start churning out crap of my own. It was also where I discovered a link to dear Zoe, the Barmy Benelux Bimbo. So I guess that it has a lot to answer for.
Maybe it will come back some day. It seems a shame that future generations will be forced to rely on second hand information about Kingsley when researching for their doctorates.
Before I started all of this nonsense, I added some of my parochial postings to my website. Read the nonsense there, and shed a tear or two at the loss of this valuable sociological resource.
Our friend Mike has a jolly nice village web log, but it is much too serious. Tom’s blog is also, by default, a village web log, as no other human being will live within 4 miles of him.
17 comments:
What on earth did people in rural North East Hampshire do before the invention of the internet?
I like sheep cheese
Is that a euphemism?
It's probably what people in rural North East Hampshire did before the invention of the internet.
That is a real shame about the loss of your village blog. Interestingly (that's code for this is unbelievably boring), these small rural communities are kept in check by a huge unspoken pressure not to make waves. Getting out there and speaking your mind is not really an option. I do have a good friend in this parish who does say it how it is, but my oh my, he has some enemies.
Thank you for the link, Vicus - and I'm sorry to hear that your village blog is no more.
Yes, we do incline rather sharply towards the serious on our blog (although "lighter-hearted moments" have been known, ho yes indeed!) - but maybe that's the price one pays for inclusivity?
Dave. They established culture, standards and propriety for the rest of the world.
ILTV. Have you changed your name? Is there a comma missing?
Dave. Yes.
Tom. There are no such sinister undertones in NE Hants.
Mike. Never mind, this site will remain a shrine to the trivial and perhaps, one day, amusing.
thanks for pointing that out
This post would be of very little interest to me - except that I used to be widly in love with a guy called Kingsley Smith in 1966.
Kaz. Far be it from me to point out what appear to be typos in the text of my fans, but the thought of your being "widly" in love has stirred something very peculiar. And what was he called in 1967?
The verb 'to widle' comes from the Latin widlus: 'to entertain romatic thoughts about the MP for Maidstone'.
Hope this helps.
The word 'romatic' suggests hints of insanity.
The word "rheumatic" suggests Vicus' condition.
My new favorite bons mot is your "Intimacy has no part to play in the daily life of..." _________ insert the name of anyplace where Humans dwell.
I shall try to use it at my next Community Patrol meeting during one of my all encompassing, oratorians which are well known for encapsulating the idiosyncratic malaise of our society.
I feel your pain.
My wife and I both spent our formative years growing up in small towns and understand all of the unwritten rules of nonconfrontationalism that Tom has so eloquently outlined.
As you can imagine, we are getting along famously and seldom is heard a discouraging word, and the skies are not cloudy all day.
How often at night,
when the heavens are bright.
With the light,
from the glittering stars
Have I stood there amazed,
and asked as I gazed.
If their glory exceeds that of ours?
It may be connected with Ann Widlycombe who is very angry with the Boy Scouts at the moment.
"Zoe, the Barmy Benelux Bimbo."
That, I would presume, to be none other than myself.
Let me think of something and I'll get back to you.
Zoe! You are quite on the ball for a blonde, aren't you?
I'm sad now.
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