Told off by my husband at dinner last night for being indiscreet with some of my blog posts.
This was just after I’d complained loudly about my fish pie being tasteless, but I think that was just a coincidence. (But come on! It was 90% mashed potato with a thin layer of poorly defrosted fish remnants hidden at the bottom. Do I have to eat red meat to get a good meal out here in the heartlands?? Maybe I do.)
We were discussing how young people post all sorts of photos, mostly of themselves scantily clad, on Instagram these days. I was boasting about the fact I don’t, and never would even on Facebook which is just for old people these days, when he brought up a post on my blog I made about Marsden Mums, and how that could have easily caused offense.
This upset me in three ways:
1) that post must have been ages ago – I’ve managed to get over the psychological trauma of my daughters’ poncey old private school with a combination of denial and deliberate forgetting in the intervening years.
2) he’s read one of my posts! That makes me nervous right there
3) if there’s ever a group of people ripe for a little satire, it’s that collection of wealthy, privileged, smug Karens, determined to keep control of school society in any way possible, and ensuring darling Jemima or Clementine gets to be head girl as is her due.
He also said my oldest daughter told him I was unfiltered, which is more hurtful than all the rest (unless she meant it as a compliment?) Little do they know the tight rein I keep on myself! If I let rip the blast waves would leave nothing but devastation around me. Only many years of carefully imbued social constructs keep me in line – that plus a genuine love for some friends and family that stops me from saying anything that would cause too much upset. Bizarre that even the people close to me don’t see that! SMH