Forums.

Not a very popular subject, but since I have spent many a long Winter involved in such, they must be worth a mention.  The subject itself isn’t important.

I was eventually made up to be a Moderator.  Oh what glory.  But that is when the real problems began.  The Forum Owner thought that because the job is often mind numbingly boring that Moderators should be allowed to express opinions.

I instinctively knew that this wasn’t a good idea, but since I didn’t want to be bored witless 24/7 I went along with it.  I even survived for a while with some sensible discourse with those of opposite opinions.  It was actually all quite good.

But then the Moderator Bashing began.  This might seem like an easy one to deal with, but it isn’t.  I never delete an insult directed at me personally.  Not quite Cricket you see.  I leave that to another Moderator who might or might not agree with the insult, presuming that they even noticed.  They could well be dealing with insults of their own.  Although I do try to deal with those.  I don’t rate Moderator Bashing in any shape or form, no matter who.  Especially as these people have no idea of who dun it.  They actually don’t know who deleted their Libellous or Spurious Comment.

My main problem for me seems to be a bit too much related to Cricket.  I am playing Cricket while too many others are playing Trash the Truth with a well aimed Bowling Ball.  They are having a high old time trashing The Forum while some of us still care.

And of course, there are lots of people who are a bit lonely who gain some sort of life from communication.  Social Media isn’t all bad.

I am having a bit of a hiatus at the moment.  No, I am not leaving.  But should I carry on being a bit of a wimp and playing Cricket, or should I take up Hard Ball?

No one can tell me this of course, but I doubt that is is possible to turn a Sows Ear into a Silk Purse.  I am your original Sows Ear.  I came up The Clyde on the first Water Biscuit.  I clawed my way out of the East End of London.

This is in memory of Alice Perjorick.  I still miss you.