I love writing; it’s a kind of intellectual reflex for me, a learned response, a la Pavlov, that I developed years ago. I’ve been keeping personal journals and diaries since I was a very little girl, covering a whole variety of things, my experiences, my impressions; anything at all that catches my attention.
These blogs I see principally as a kind of conversation with myself; a process by which I test, examine and assay things before my own eye. I could, of course, make them private, or available only to my own friends, but I would like to think that they are of interest to a wider audience, an insight into a thought process in shaping, it might even be said. But like all blogs they are personal reflections, in which I retain an editorial mandate. I welcome comments, useful and interesting comments, and I do not always seek agreement, or a reflection of myself. Perhaps I am vain-I’m certainly egotistical-though there are still clear frontiers. I welcome comments, yes, but I do not and will not allow loud and silly diatribes. I’ve always been repelled by lack of control, in words above all, which I love. Thought should always be measured and language precise.