One of my friends is bemused by my blogging habit. He can’t understand why I bother (or why anyone would be interested in reading it – he may have a point there!). I told him it was to do with enjoying writing, wanting an outlet where I can practise concise web-writing etc etc – all very worthy reasons.
He wondered if I was like Carrie Bradshaw when I wrote. (By which I presume he’s referring to sitting cross-legged on my bed, dressed in pj’s & thinking through the latest angst of singledom/boyfriends – always the former in my case). I was just about to argue that I wasn’t when I realised that that’s exactly how I sit with my laptop at home. Except that a flat in South Bermondsey isn’t anywhere near as glamorous as a New York brownstone.
In honour of Carrie, and all that she did for the work of feminist writing (probably very little) the next few blogs are going to be à la Carrie…
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