Don't blog about this

Blogging doesn't seem to make you any friends.  

As the mother of a future journalist I'm hooked on the Levison enquiry.  After Peter Mandleson's evidence was leaked I started to follow the political blogger Guido Fawkes.  He said that being a professional blogger is like being a journalist with better job security.  I'm not sure how you become a professional blogger.  But as a rambling amateur I can see that there are some similarities to being a journalist.  I can't imagine journalists have many friends.  Would you ever be able to trust a journalist friend not to write about you?  

There is a line that shouldn't be crossed but I'm not sure where that line is.  It can never be right to take long lens pictures of a family at the graveside of their young murdered child or delete phone messages of a missing person. But if it was suspected that the murderer might be at the graveside, would that be different?  Someone said that journalism is something that someone doesn't want published and everything else is just advertising.  

Recently, people have said something funny and followed it with, "don't blog about this, will you?"  Last night I went for a meal with some friends.  When we sat down someone was sitting opposite me but after going up to the buffet for the first time the seat was empty.  It's a bit worrying when no one wants to sit near you!  

So, I won't blog about anyone else except myself today.  A Chinese meal always make me dream and last night's dream was odd.  I dreamt that it was Christmas day and I hadn't done any shopping.  I had no food or presents and so several friends came round and told me that we were going to Lakeside.  I didn't want to go because I thought it would be crowded but they convinced me.  When we arrived we went into a large store and I was given a big basket full of all the food I needed for Christmas and it was free.  Then we started to look round for presents.  I saw a colleague who loves shoes in the shoe department, where she showed me some great shoes for my daughter for only 5p.  Then I went to the coat department where another colleague, who is very stylish, found me a beautiful black coat for my sister for only 50p. The drive home from this dream-shop was like a video game.  There were children all over the road that had to be swerved round and then there were Taliban all over the road with machine guns.  They shot a hole in my car, which ended in a ditch and so I had to walk home, carrying all my purchases.  

I'm not sure if I should be more worried about my mental health or the fact that my friends are avoiding me.