I have a confession to make. I came home yesterday and found that someone had added the following comment to my last post: “This blog is as dull as it sounded in the newspaper.” Tired and emotional after a long day and a sleepless night, turning the spaghetti with one hand, I deleted with the other.
Clearly this is a gesture that can’t be undone but I wish to apologise to the person who made the comment. Firstly he was right, the post about food was rather dull (thankfully I didn’t write about food in my book) and secondly I had no right to delete his comment, however unhappy it made me at the time. I would like to invite him to post it again, with added vitriol if he likes. I looked at his blog (The Daily Fail) this morning and discovered that we are probably ill-matched as blogging buddies but that is not the point. He must feel as free to insult me as I (should I ever feel so inclined) must feel to insult him.
This shameful gesture of mine came in the aftermath of a fantastically bad review in the Mail on Sunday. Night brings counsel, as the French say, because this morning I woke up feeling strangely relieved that The Mail had hated my book (though the funniest thing is that the reviewer castigated me for French bashing!?) Even if he didn’t actually read the book, I’m glad he panned it. As I’m glad now that the author of the Daily Fail finds my blog boring.
Chacun son truc.