Eric, this is for you xx

Eric contacted me. He wants to feature grit's day on his home and lifestyle website! Like Ideal Homes. Only better.

Eric suggested he would link to me, then I'd link to his. That's the way we modern bloggers live, yah? I'll show you mine if you show me yours.

For a moment, my head turned. Eric didn't only suggest a quick link. Eric murmured to me how he loved my stylish photography of my swanky Hong Kong lifestyle. So much, he'd followed my blog, gazing at it from afar, for months!

I was flattered. Can you imagine how my heart melted as I fancied him plucking up courage to speak!

But then I thought some more.

I think Eric lied. I feel it in my heart.

I don't think Eric has followed my blog at all. I think Eric said nice things to get his way with me. I think he doesn't care about my blog in any special relationship. I bet, to Eric, grit's day is just another boring old blahblahblah. He can see the grey hairs, distress and emotional disturbance showing everywhere. Let's face it. You can too. We all can. Even the look of it reminds you of a pair of pants when the elastic's perished. Doesn't it? Eric saw that too. He thought women like me would respond; that with a bit of attention he could make us think we were special.

And he was right.

Which is why I weakened. But listen! Eric didn't only say he's followed grit's day for months on account of the stylish home and lifestyle! He said my blog was so good he would make grit's day a Best of the Web! Howabout that! Grit's day would be best at something!

Then I felt, yes yes YES! I would like to be best at something! Considering how crap I clearly am at most things, it would be a very warm feeling inside to be made best at something! Anything! Even a blog post!

So I did stop and think. For a moment.

Eric knew I would be tempted. He whispered sweet nothings. Then he got out his desirable traffic, and waved it in front of my face. Two thousand people regularly drop by when Eric's around! Wouldn't that be great for gritty no mates! I could hear him whispering, Dear and lovely Grit, come with me. You would be best at something! And POPULAR!

It's tempting, isn't it? Tell me you too would stop and listen to Eric!

But I knew it was all a lie. He only wants me for one thing. My ad space. When he has me, he just wants me to sell something for him. Then I'd be just another working girl at the keyboard, and Eric would be my pimp.

Oh the cruel way of the world! My mother warned me. And she was right.

Is it senseless that I still like Eric? I really do. He was so nice to me! He put such effort into it!

It's difficult not to be seduced by the Erics of this world. After all, there is a grain of truth. Eric is right. I'm just a sadandlonelymiddleagedgreyhaireddroopybelly Miss Jones of a woman who yearns only for a bit of attention.

Don't blame me, but the lonely heart of grit wants to respond. Then I can thank Eric for working so hard at lying in a nice way. And I can be dignified when I smile gently and say Eric, put your enormous traffic away. Dangling it there will lead to nothing. Intelligence and gentlemanly charm seduces me Eric. Not your flattery. Not your promise of all the best of the world. Not your inflated statistical enormity.

Eric, this must be my parting gift. A personal tour of my stylish home and life in Hong Kong. For you.

Might we pursue a more careful relationship Eric, if I show you my stylish kitchen with the pottery garlic hanging in the window?

Don't look at the loaf. It's difficult to buy good bread in Hong Kong. The price! That measly loaf with added E102 cost about two quid. I think fondly of sending the kids down the Co-op at price reduction time. 8p for a roll there, Eric! What a bargain.


A stylish hob, Eric. Gas comes in bottles. They're driven up the hill track on a village vehicle. But there's no oven! Life is hard without an oven. We manage. I know deprivation. The oven at home never really worked after the door fell off in 2004.


Now, Eric, here's the Baygon. You need this for killing roaches. They are in all the best houses. You just don't see them cross the floor of the Governor's Mansion. You see them here, Eric. Enormous, with long waving antennae. The lantern is a bit of discarded craft. Ignore it, and the tissue. It contains a fly carcass. I had to kill it at midnight last night in Tiger's bedroom. I'll get round to clearing it up, Eric. I promise.


Here's my stylish storage solution Eric, for old copies of the South China Morning Post. Shove them in empty cereal packets and dump them by the front door! Yes, it would be easier to dump them in landfill. I cannot bring myself to do it. I must walk to the paper recycling bins. Taking them in old cereal boxes is as convenient as anything. I forget, Eric. Do not blame me. Age is terrifying.


Here is the downstairs bathroom. See the plastic flowers in the corner? Vulgar, I think you'll agree. Classy homes like ours do not compose plastic flowers in pot tubs. Clearly, they are nothing to do with us. I can't say the same for the plastic bags.


Another ornamental disaster Eric! The previous tenants had NO TASTE. The hats are ours, obviously. And the swinging thing. And the origami.


It's a cricket, Eric. Shark made it. Stupidly, for a while there, I thought it was a caterpillar.

And finally. My best friend. I killed him, Eric, I killed him.

He was the first little creature to welcome me to our stylish home in Hong Kong. He was standing on the steps, waiting for me to come home. You have no idea how hard this is for me. I stood on him. By accident.

What do you mean, you cannot recognise him? Eric, please be respectful. He is a praying mantis, Eric. And he is DEAD.

Eric, I think our relationship may be doomed. Let us say, we were just ships in the night.