Waste valuable day light, itching to smash things up. Not because Aunty Dee is making a flying visit and I must excavate the cellar (again), a place where Squirrel is now routinely gone to haunt, nor because I stab my finger (again) with the leather needle while stitching the divine item below...
No, it is because I am trying to do something for my marketing, and I am told I must set up a Facebook page for Knicker Drawer Note Books.
But I hate Facebook, pure and simple. If I could stab it, bash it, hurt it with skewers and throw it from the top floor of a building into a fast-moving river below where certain death awaits, then I would do that, oh yes I would.
Tsk, says Dig (en route to Slovakia). He says I have not got the hang of FB.
I should ignore him. It seems to me he is constantly wasting his life checking FB for pictures of dinners that are anticipated by other people. I note he has never put up a picture of the dinner I serve him.
Anyway, that is by-the-bye. Facebook, so Dig says, helps people find you. I don't want people to find me, I answer. I want them to find Knicker Drawer Note Books. Incidentally, FB won't let me use that name. Pass another skewer.
Well, after a lot of thrashing about, stomping, cursing, and pointing at the monitor screen on my laptop while yelling rude words, I have achieved something. Although I'm not sure what, and don't hold your breath for the pictures of dinner.