How terribly rude.

Yesterday morning, I arose. I always do, and it's a trend that's sure to continue until it stops, and as I'd rather not dwell on that, we'll just get on with yesterday. I arose, as I have already stated, and gulped down huge, warm cups of coffee, several of them and took in the familiar aroma of mornings at my humble abode.

I grabbed my trusty iPad, which may or may not be a tool of the devil but is really funky either way, and checked facebook. That done, I headed to my blog, to check if anyone had actually read it, and then hit the share button.

I'm sure you can envision how perplexing a dilemma I found it to be when facebook, my beloved facebook, wouldn't allow me to post! I tried again, but to no avail. Devastated, or at least slightly peeved, I hobbled slowly to the kitchen to sulk, and drink more coffee. And possibly to whinge, complain and moan just a little.

Once I'd completed the required amount of whinging, I began to formulate a plan so cunning you could put a tail on it and call it fox. It consisted of a three prongs that went something like this : fill in stupid online forms to tell facebook that I am neither spam, nor offensive, or if I am, can they forgive me anyway due to my natural charm and charisma, then post updates whinging about how I've been censored and how unfair it is to be oppressed, thirdly I contacted my secret army. Of one. Every great movement has to start somewhere.

Having contacted the magnificently plumed Great Peacock Empress of the North (that's right, it pays to have friends in high places, or at least on high ground), my trusted ally immediately posted my blog, and registered her protest at the persecution of the plumed people of the south. (All hail the Great Peacock Empress of the North. Long may she live.)

This morning I arose again. I had my coffee, I checked the now not so beloved facebook, and hoped it was feeling less treacherous today. It was. It let me post my silly blog! Then, the nagging in the less charitable portion of my brain commenced. Who had reported me? Who was the veritable viper I had nursed at my less than ample bosom?

Sherlock Holmes may have been able to solve the mystery for me, but as he wasn't at hand, I simply scratched my head. More concerning is why. Why choose to flag something as spam, when an alternative would be to simply not read it. Termination of the friendship wouldn't have bordered me, so I wonder what possesses someone to choose the most punitive response at their disposal.

This isn't an important blog. It has no meaning or purpose at all. It just is. I'm glad I offended someone. Usually means you're doing something right.

Sent from my iPad, which, by the way is fantastic.