There was a funny little logo in the corner of my screen this morning, a bit like an anvil. I’m particularly bad at identifying icons and diagrams, they all look like squiggles to me, so I clicked on it in a ferment of anticipation. What could it be? Had someone sent me a virtual present? Was it a strange and possibly alien follower who had joined?
Not a bit of it. The icon represented my six-year anniversary on this blog! So happy anniversary to all my readers and a special shout-out to those who have been with me since the beginning.
I started – apparently – on May 16th 2008, at the instigation of Hanif Kureishi. I was at a writing seminar with him at Leicester Library and I asked him what advice he would give to aspiring writers. ‘Start a blog,’ he said. Never one to hang around, I started the very next day. At first I didn’t blog every day, but soon I made it a daily discipline, reasoning that if I wrote nothing else, at least I’d have published a couple of hundred words online. Published: that word never loses its aura – I’ll never forget the first time I finished a post and clicked on the magic word.
‘Publish’.
Ah!
I didn’t get many readers at first. Not surprising; but after a while I discovered how to link the blog to Facebook, and we were off. Now I have getting on for a couple of hundred followers and I get lots of likes. If people follow me I always take a look at their blog and will sometimes reblog some of their posts. I have lots of poets, some philosophers and some who just talk whimsically about their daily lives. It’s all interesting – and now here’s your chance to get your poetry or thoughts out to a wider audience.
Because, to celebrate the six-year anniversary of Lizardyoga’s weblog, I am offering a guest slot to followers. If you would like to appear on this blog and do a guest spot, just comment below. You can show off your poetry or pick a topic and theorise on it; you can talk about your favourite (or least favourite) TV programmes or rant about politics or whatever you like.
So drop me a line. I look forward to hearing from you.
Kirk out
Sarada Gray 
so lets get this straight,
I leave a comment here and automatically, grammatically, I become a guest contributer, but wait,
what if I cant write dramatically ?
Does that matter?
is it ok to just natter?
I think I should think about this before I put this to press.
What do you say?
Whatever you have to say will be great. Just put it in the form of a comment unless you have your own blog in which case do it there and send me a link
Congratulations on the 6th anniversary of your blog! As a Vulcan I find it fascinating to be a spectator of the strange antics of homo sapiens – especially its ability to experience pleasure and pain via emotions. We Vulcans are shy and withdrawn by comparison and the prospect of diurnal writings about one’s inner thoughts is impossible to contemplate. I am, however, often sufficiently moved to respond to your impressive epistles, as your know. So please don’t stop.
Spock out
As we say on earth, thank you very much Kirk
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oh, right, well, I thought the poem I wrote on your comment thingy was what you wanted, but you say you want something else as welll? Ok, shall have to think of something important to write. If I put it on my own blog I will never know how to link to you…..maybe thats what the topic should be………hmm
Just the poem will be fine Liz
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ah no, i only just saw the poem would be fine !! sorry, but now youve got a mini story too !! sorry,
The sun was going down and it was almost time for the task in hand…………everything was ready………he had waltzed in to the hotel carrying his holdall, not bothering to ltry to look inconspicuous as just being normal is the best disguise. The elevator had opened on the fourth floor and he had stepped out into the corridor scanning the room doors until he found the direction he should be heading…………..to room 431, but instead he continued to room 451 and used his electronic skeleton key. Just one of the gadgets he had. He had entered the room and opened his holdall. From it he removed a rifle complete with sound muffler and telescopic sight. He stroked it lovingly before standing it against the window. He checked the view. Good.
Then he took out some other clothes from the bag and stripped off his suit. He stepped into American Tan tights, a plain green dress, smart but not outlandish, he didnt want to stand out. He applied makeup and donned his blonde shoulder length wig, The shoes, low heeled in case he had to run, he left by the door. Returning to the window he took up the rifle, loaded two bullets, and tied the barrel to the venetial blind cord in order to minimise the motion of the rifle as he took aim.
He waited silently. And there, across the road, on the steps leading up to the opposite hotel entrance was the man he had been instructed to terminate. A non -descript man, average build, alone, no security entourage, a seeming nobody. But there must be a very good reason this man was destined to meet his maker a little early. He took aim. Took a deep breath and held it. Phut, phut. The man was thrown forward and down. The concierge at first looked startled, as if the man had merely fainted, but the blood that spattered onto his best white shirt told another tale and his face rapidly drained of blood. He staggered back toward the exit/entrance , his eyes roaming wildly around to see where the shooter was, but he was too late and too far away for his tired old eyes to comprehend.
And just like that, it was over.
The man, now woman, calmly replaced the rifle in the holdall and covered it with his trousers, shirt, jacket and shoes. He stepped into the low heels waiting by the door, smoothed down his dress and quietly left the room. A porter passed and enquired if he could assist the lady with her bag, and was delighted with the large tip for doing so.
So the escape was made in a calm cool and ladylike manner and nobody guessed.
As she exited the hotel and made for the waiting taxi, which had been hailed by the gratified porter, the sirens came closer until the blue strobing lights could be seen and the hotel opposite had been closed to pedestrian traffic ,inwards and out. The taxi purred away, and she smiled, satisfied at another job well done, whilst the taxi driver sneaked a look at her legs in his rear view mirror
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see, i just dont see how to link. I clicked on the icon but nothing seemed to happen, so ive copied and pasted into this comment box………….
Do you want to say anything about yourself for a bit of bio? Liz
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