Guardian Girl

Apologies for the extended pause in posts.

Let’s pretend Guardian Girl is an oil rig. When you’re at work, you are always at work, up there on that rig getting oilier and saltier and dirtier and thinking ‘what the hell am I doing here?’ as you stare out to sea and ponder the distant memory of your real life back home, where you are really you. Yet you keep telling yourself this is your one, albeit it quite odd, purpose in life at that time. Then, just as you’ve read the Safety Rules notice on the toilet door one too many times and cracked surely your last one off over your precious but faded picture of Keeley Hawes, it’s finally time to return to the homestead. Once again you can buy fresh fruit at 11pm, manage your own film-watching schedule and squeeze a real pair of nipples with overzealous relief. You don’t have to report back to the line manager every time you take a crap. It is heavenly. Once you’re off that rig, you get into the leisure vibe and you’re certainly not going back until you know it’s time.

The analogy fell apart right at the start. I don’t even know what is this compulsion to put nipples in everything. I know nothing of oil rig culture other than my probably mistaken prejudices.

It was however a good illustration of why I’m having a break from blogging at the moment. No one needs to read this kind of thing on a daily basis.

I will be back when I feel like it, maybe in a week or a year or never or whatever.

FONDIES to one and ‘all’ until then.

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