On April 30th 2013 the blogging platform, Posterous, will shut down. This is both a bit of a shock and not really a shock at all.
It’s main selling point was to allow easy blogging via email. But then along came smart phones with apps like the lovely WordPress app that meant you could blog from anywhere you could get a signal, so email blogging seemed a bit pointless.
If you have a Posterous blog, you might want to think about getting a backup of your posts so you can transfer them to WordPress.
I only had a brief play with Posterous. I wanted somewhere I could write about things other than writing so I started a new mini blog over there. I only posted to it twice and then I redesigned mruku.com and well, as you can see, it does everything.
Still, I really quite like the two posts that I put on Posterous, so I thought I’d bring them over here for your entertainment and to save them for the ages. I present them below.
(From March 29th 2011)
For the last week I have had a bad back.
It came on, all of a sudden, on the morning of Monday 21st March while I was drying my hands. I felt like I had been punched in the stomach and kicked in the back and found myself stuck and unable to move. I spent at least twenty minutes in the bathroom, gripping the towel rail in agony.
There was much swearing.
There was much sweating.
The agony was made worse as I had tensed up from the pain. I knew the only way to stop it hurting was to relax, ‘cept I couldn’t relax on account of the immense pain. I’ve had back trouble for years having hurt it back in the 90s when I worked in a warehouse. But that was lower back trouble and when that comes on, it’s usually because I’ve done something stupid. You know, moving furniture, showing off, spending a whole weekend slumped on the couch for a Columbo marathon.
But back pain is back pain and I was prepared. It took me the full twenty minutes to relax enough that I could manage to get to my chair in the living room. I had my walking stick to hand and a host of painkillers. I chugged down a handful of pills and, when I felt able, I began pacing around the flat.
Pills and exercise is what the doctor always prescribes, so that is what I do.
A few days later and I’m usually OK. Not this time though. A full week of painkillers and exercise and I’m still hurting.
Then I found a lump in me belly.
As any man would, I’d been avoiding the doctors. But when you find a lump, you start to wondering. In my case, I was wondering if the “punch” to my stomach had either caused a hernia or was the result of a hernia suddenly appearing. Better safe than sorry, I thought, and I decided to make an appointment with the doc. Besides, I still felt kind of achy in the back and shoulder. Sleeping had been difficult as the pain was waking me up every time I tried to roll over in the night.
Up early the next morning and I was feeling quite good. Moving was easier and I felt OK. But that lump still needed looking at so I rang the doctor and made my appointment anyway. I decided I wouldn’t take my painkillers so I could tell the doctor exactly where the pain was.
Later, in the afternoon, I made my way to the surgery.
I explained myself to the doc who did some tests involving prodding my lump and getting me to cough. Then I was made to do some moving around, lifting my arms, touching my toes. The doc had a good look at my now perfectly fine back and found nothing. My lump turned out to be nothing but a bit of fat/gristle and definitely not a hernia.
I’m not happy about my back suddenly being better though. But that was yesterday.
Today I woke up in such pain that I had to get out of bed. Moving around this morning has been agony but so has lying down. Which leads me to conclude that, even my own body hates me.
Stupid bloody body.
I wouldn’t mind but I’d recently began doing more moving about in order to avoid exactly these problems.
Sometimes, the universe is so happy that it doesn’t want you to change. It upsets the balance and somewhere, an orphan has to punch a kitten to keep everything as it was.
It’s just the way of things.
Where’s My Big Sandwich?
(From April 2nd 2011)
Some days, you bumble along, not really having much of a clue about anything. You wear the first thing you find in the wardrobe. You don’t bother to check if your socks match. You part your hair on both sides. Being indecisive can be great.
But then there are days when you know exactly what you want. These days are also great, if you can manage to do or get what you really want. Today is like that for me.
I know what I want.
I also know that no matter what, I’m not going to get it. This is very depressing.
I started off wanting it to be dark and gloomy outside for the duration of the day. I was willing it to pour down and blow a gale. The weather forecast put paid to that. It is now warmish and sunnyish just like the nice weather-lady said it would be.
Next I decided I wanted a netbook. I found a nice looking one that I really like. It does everything I want it to and is a reasonable price considering. But I have absolutely no use for it. I don’t go anywhere that I’d need a netbook very often. But I did work out that I could use it on the couch, for those times when I suddenly had the need to write something but didn’t want to have go through the messing about of waiting for my main computer to boot up. The sensible voice in my head was beaten into submission by my insensible voice, which usually means, he wins. But there’s another problem.
I don’t have any money for a netbook no matter how shiny and pointless.
A while later and I have a new need.
I really, really need a big sandwich. Not just any big sandwich; a nice big sandwich. One with chicken and bacon and mayo and lettuce and a little salt and pepper served in a warm, seeded baguette. That would be lovely.
But I don’t have anything in to make a really nice big sandwich. I never do, it wouldn’t keep. And I don’t live near any shops that don’t require a major walk to get to.
So I am without my big sandwich, I’m having to write this on a large computer instead of a shiny new netbook and the sun is in my eyes.
If it wasn’t for pork-chop night, my life would be full of disappointment.