Thursday, September 09, 2010

I sometimes wonder why I persevere with this, since I rarely get a sense of anyone reading it.

Perhaps its like a radio play; even though the audience is invisible, it still exists.

And even if no-one ever reads it at all, it still matters, because it helps me make sense of things.

And then every now and again, something unexpected happens, usually a chance encounter.

It happened the other day, when I was a little early for an appointment the other evening and went into a bookshop to pass the time.

It's not something I often do these days; bookshops used to be quirky, individual places, but have now almost all become supermarkets. And that saddens me.

But there I was, browsing, when someone came up to me and asked, Excuse me, but are you Jo Clifford.

And so I am.

And it turned out this person reads this blog, and wanted to say how much they enjoy it.

I was flattered as you are, and a bit embarrassed, as I often am, and left, feeling pleased with the encounter.

It somehow helped make sense of the dreadful tedious lecture I then attended.

That night I got an email from the person I had met, who had presented themselves in a perfectly plausible male way.

But they signed themselves with a female name, and said how reading these entries had helped her on the journey to become the person she truly feels herself to be.

I was touched and grateful. Memo to self: remember there are people out there. They do take notice. Everything that is said, matters.


We certainly do read Jo. I loved the one about the girl who reflected her father's inner-beauty.
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