A funny thing happened today.
I'm used to getting comments. I love your responses to my work, read them all, and hope to get many more. I'm also used to getting Anonymous comments.
Yet today I got a comment from a person who is both very real, and yet completely fictional.
The one, the only, the legendary Ed Reardon posted a comment on my Blog!
That's right, folks. Ed Reardon. Writer of 'Who Would Fardels Bear', and the unforgettable 'Brands Hatch Story'. Liver of life at (or, rather, above) the Cutting Edge. In Berkhamsted.
Now strangely, the worthy gentleman also appeared on Twitter today, making his first forays into the teeming waters of microblogging.
Now I of course am fully aware that things on teh interwebz aren't always as they seem. And that people can sometimes not be who they actually are. Yet, because I feel strangely honoured by Mr Reardon reading this Journal, I feel obliged to issue a small challenge.
Mr Reardon, I believe (I hope) that I know who you really are. If you *are* who I sincerely hope you to be, then please post another comment, providing contact details for Ping.
(I have a pitch for her - 'The Little Book of Dungeekin's Curmudgeonly Blog Posts'. Shouldn't run to more than half a million pages. I especially recommend 'An Oath of Allegiance'.)
I wait with bated breath. . . .
I'm used to getting comments. I love your responses to my work, read them all, and hope to get many more. I'm also used to getting Anonymous comments.
Yet today I got a comment from a person who is both very real, and yet completely fictional.
The one, the only, the legendary Ed Reardon posted a comment on my Blog!
That's right, folks. Ed Reardon. Writer of 'Who Would Fardels Bear', and the unforgettable 'Brands Hatch Story'. Liver of life at (or, rather, above) the Cutting Edge. In Berkhamsted.
Now strangely, the worthy gentleman also appeared on Twitter today, making his first forays into the teeming waters of microblogging.
Now I of course am fully aware that things on teh interwebz aren't always as they seem. And that people can sometimes not be who they actually are. Yet, because I feel strangely honoured by Mr Reardon reading this Journal, I feel obliged to issue a small challenge.
Mr Reardon, I believe (I hope) that I know who you really are. If you *are* who I sincerely hope you to be, then please post another comment, providing contact details for Ping.
(I have a pitch for her - 'The Little Book of Dungeekin's Curmudgeonly Blog Posts'. Shouldn't run to more than half a million pages. I especially recommend 'An Oath of Allegiance'.)
I wait with bated breath. . . .
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