The write way up

It seemed logical. I've been so busy working out how this blog thing works and fiddling with the pages, that actually posting anything took second place.
'Never mind' I thought 'I'm a clever girl, I can post in retrospect'.

So this is how it works..... you begin the post, check it through, click on 'publish post' and it appears. With a date on. Today's date. Not yesterday's, not the day before. Today.

'Not a problem' I reasoned. 'As I type, beginning with last Sunday, the new lines of type with push the old ones down the page and the text will end up beginning with the most recent thoughts and the oldest thoughts will be down the bottom of the page near the last date of posting'. The most recent date then will be nearest to the top. In blog order.

 I expect you have worked it out now  - it just doesn't happen does it? Took me a couple of hours though.

In the Cotswold's for the weekend, when all this amazing process of logic was taking place, I lay in the camper van bed listening to the pouring rain and trying to imagine how print happens when you type it in the the computer. Of course the letters you type go on top of the previous ones. That's soooo logical. Isn't it?

Remembering my first proper job and the old Remington Noiseless. Showing my age now. A splendid typewriter that I learned to use on the job - I was an advertisement clerk in the local newspaper. I had status then. Prestige.

'She works for the Mail' folks would say if I was spotted out; and if the spotter knew me already ..
'Hoo dus she think she is werking for the Mail?' (you have to know the vernacular to appreciate it.).

The Mail sold the wedding photographs that the photographers took each Saturday. People would come in and look at the display photos to choose the size and price range of their prints. After our wedding, His Nibs (my husband) and I were the 'model' photographs. Unwary customers would discuss the bride and groom, the wedding outfits, where the bride and groom ranked in the attractiveness stakes and so on, completely unaware that the bride was actually sitting behind the desk waiting to take their order.
'Wouldn't you think she'd take her glasses off?' asked one to her friend.
Why? Why would I take my glasses off? I needed them on in order to SEE. What if someone swapped His Nibs for an ugly model who I didn't recognise because I didn't have my glasses on and I accidentally married him? Anyway, there was nothing wrong with those bronzed aviator frames with the double bridge. Nothing.

The Remington Noiseless, I remembered, typed top down, not bottom up. The daisy wheel printer in the press room (oh those Saturdays doing the footy results with Jeff  (Geoff?) Stelling... it printed top down too.
'So why,' I thought, still listening to the rain, 'doesn't the computer?'. ... At some point I drifted off to sleep, awakened later by the sound of large drips on the camper van roof. Life somehow unscrambled itself again and the mystery of how the type appeared on screen unfolded as I remembered that the PC too, types from the top down and my method of blogging in retrospect was busted.

I remembered something else too. I remembered my dad telling me:
'Never camp under trees Les, never camp under trees, 'cos when it rains, it always rains twice.' And it did.