When I began this blogging caper I told myself that I would eschew all shameless airing of my personal laundry in public and stick to the honest business of self-promotion.

But I can’t help it.

The giddying sense of a vast, anonymous audience hanging on my every word is too much for me…I have to share this:

I’m on a brief and longed-for holiday by the jeweled Adriatic – Montenegro, in fact; a destination I have fantasized about for years (NO, there are no sex dwarves here) and it is pouring with rain. The sky is black and the emerald rivers are spewing their litter-laden mud into the sea. I’m told this freakish and unprecedented precipitation will go on till the end of the week.

So what do I do? I go to a ‘cyber cafe’ with its upbeat Balkan mariachi and its towering waitresses (dressed in thigh boots and string vests), I log onto this blog and I pour my heart out.

Only a year ago I was deploring the unseemliness of blogging culture. How bizarre, I thought back then, to want to splatter your inner life all over the Internet, and how vainglorious to think that anyone would be interested.

Now look at me.