This blog is many things to many people.
To some, it's a way to pass those annoying last minutes before 5:30. To others, a mine of information on how to undermine and belittle your colleagues.
But what it has never attempted to be, nor indeed succeeded at being, is a source of humour.
Or so I thought.
Upon visiting my sister-in-law at the weekend, she informed me that she had found it humorous.
[Only my own literary snobbishness prevents me from inserting a massive smiley face here.]
Rach's compliment was especially gratifying as she is currently undergoing chemotherapy, which apparently isn’t as much fun as it sounds.
She told me she’s spent many of her feeling-ill-est hours reading from these turgid cyber-pages.
Although she didn’t actually say so, I think it’s fair to say that this blog is a single shining beacon of hope and joy in her life.
It would also be COMPLETELY accurate to say I inspired Rach to write her own blog, Rage against the lymphoma, chronicling the non-stop-fun of fighting Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.
However, I must warn you: DO NOT READ IT.
I don’t say this because I’m intimidated by someone daring to take on a challenging and weighty subject and carrying it off with genuine wit and warmth. That’s not it at all.
I forbid you from reading it because she has TEN TIMES more readers than me.
Ten. Ruddy. Times.
Things like this make me wonder what’s the point of it all.
If people are more interested in reading an honest account of someone’s hopes and fears rather than banal observations on the shallow world of agency life, then I for one feel like giving up.
On the other hand, let’s not forget it’s ME that inspired her.
Which means they’re really my readers anyway.
P.S. I heart you Paveys XXX