Hello you.

You're reading this, oh yes. I know you are.

But that's all I know, isn't it. You know my name and I don't know yours!

Of course, I have some faithful readers and to them I am bound forever. Yet I must also warn these readers that I have received two comments on this blog from someone who, it seems, knows of me and knows my name. They were deleted, of course. The comments were blunt, factual, lacking entirely any style or wit and, therefore, somewhat aggressive. And so I could spend hours ruminating wastefully, pointlessly, on this person who knows my name. I could turn a suspicious gaze on, for example, Gareth. Helen, even. Well, it could be any number of acquaintances or past clients, present clients, family or friends. It could be the agent. In short, I may not know your name and while I may lack in nomenclature, I am well versed in the state of your poor soul. And when I see it next, I'll know it. I'll whisper ashes in your ear.

And so on this, the first day of my recovery, I wake to this dull, this inane and literal minded slug at, at what, the truth? Oh god, not again, grow up. Am I really writing this for someone like you? And what do you think you have on me anyway? I take that back. It wasn't the agent. Unless he did some relentless digging, it wasn't him. I used a pseudonym. Yes, for you I did! Oh, it's all seeping out now. All the bickering of detail, of facts, like a teenager, or a lawyer. Oh god save my soul from the sword, and from children with all the facts!