Offmessage

I’ve been blog tagged. Now. Normally I would shirk this kind of thing, but…. Firstly, people who know me in real life (is it “First Life” nowadays? or is it still “Meatspace”?) have commented that offmessage has absolutely no personal information on it, and it probably should. Secondly, Monty in blog tagging me reminded me of something I intended to do at the start of offmessage but have never finished, and so has spurred me into action. So, here goes…

5 things you probably don’t know about me:

1. I’ve been planning a blog post about Richard Brautigan’s Mayonnaise Library ever since I started offmessage. It was supposed to be the first post, but I’ve never quite finished it. Instead the first post was something about knickers. Which just about sums up the way this site has gone, really.
2. As far as I am aware, I am the only Andy Theyers currently alive. I’m certainly the only one that Google knows about. I’m definitely the last of my line in the UK; there are no other breeding male Theyerses in Britain. I’ve had two daughters so the dynasty ends here. Not that it was too great a dynasty in reality. Our only brushes with fame and fortune have been (fame) a relation by marriage to William Tyndale on my Dad’s side and (fortune) on my Mum’s side was the man responsible for arranging the first floodlit football match.
3. Even though I’m old enough to know better I still believe in the power of Rock and Roll.
4. Offmessage was until today entirely anonymous due to my previous employer. Just before starting this site I was asked to remove some photographs from my personal photo gallery because they had the caption ‘ioko reprobates’ and were indexed by Google (they were of old friends at a wedding, drinking). I realised then and there that it was not wise to explicitly associate myself with a blog, particularly if I wanted to make any comment about my work. In the end it turned out that until I left ioko this blog remained thankfully work free despite the wealth of material they provided, but by then I’d got into the habit of keeping myself hidden.
5. I love books that make me feel an emotion. Not ones that engender an emotion - any poorly written load of old dross can make me angry. I mean ones that allow me to truly understand an alien emotion through the power of the writing. Angry. Confused. Sickened. Stunned. Poor. Enlightened. Naive. Alive. Really alive. Really truly live. Really truly fucking alive.

That was hard work. On to my nominees. You, my friends, are “it”. Doug, Mark, Antonia, Richard and Adrian.

Although the content isn’t quite what I expected. UUUHHHGGG-rrrr!

And instead of the crud that I have posted to mark the birth of my two children she’s written about it beautifully.