You will see that we have advertisements.
I am going to be a millionaire in no time.
This is largely thanks to a web designer friend of mine. I cannot pretend to be any wiser than I was about where I ought to shove the html code, so he did it for me, there are some things where a lady just needs a young chap to help her out.
This handy supportiveness is why the advertisements are only at the sides of the page and not promiscuously flashing about in the middle.
I do not know how much I am paid every time somebody clicks on one, Google is a bit tiresomely vague about that. I do know that they wait until you have amassed lots of money and they cash it all up in one go, so presumably if you never get to the massive sum of fifty quid, they just keep it.
You are welcome to click on them, except I imagine that the mighty Data Collection giants will pepper your Facebook with advertisements similar to whatever rubbish you have inspected on these pages. Unless you really want dozens of optimistic adverts suggesting that you check your data connection speed or try your hand at Zombie Apocalypse Multiplayer, proceed with caution.
I am not supposed to click on them, which is not difficult, because they are all advertisements for the most boring things on the planet. Perhaps you will see different ones. I hope so, because nobody in their right mind is going to click on some random junk which says For Automatic Download Click Here Now, or worse, Meet Ukranian Ladies. It does not exactly inspire me with confidence and it is my web page.
What I am going to do is try and expand my readership, however, because I could really do with lots of readers who are truly interested in seeing catalogues of genuine gold plate and zirconium bracelets, so do feel free to recommend me to all your friends, if you have any friends who are so inclined, that is. Warn me if you are recommending me to anybody you actually like and I will try not to be too boring for a day or two, I could always make something up in an emergency.
Today I would have had to make something up.
Oliver’s timetable for his first week in Gordonstoun has arrived.
Actually it is really quite astonishing.
There will be a last tea in the boarding house with their parents, and then it begins. They go off outside for some games before bedtime, and then the next morning they get up early for a nice run or outdoor swim before breakfast and then church.
It will make a man of him.
I am jolly glad I never needed to be made into a man.
I am amused to note that not a single lesson seems to be on the timetable, except for something called Trangiers & Fuel. I do not think they are going to worry about lessons for the first week, maybe they are just going to see how many make it back from the expedition into the Cairngorms which starts on Friday.
Mark was at work, and Oliver and I regarded it with interest. We contemplated his immediate future in silence for a while, and eventually decided that we had better start organising ourselves, so were went shoe shopping.
I have no idea at all why some ladies regard shoe shopping as an enjoyable pastime.
They have never been to Clarks Back To School department in the last couple of weeks of the summer holidays.
People were practically kidnapping the poor ladies with the foot measuring tools and frogmarching them across to their child.
Oliver stood on the thing and discovered that his feet are exactly the same size as mine, which is ace because I will be able to have all of his trainers and boots when he has grown out of them in three weeks. I do not think I will need his rugby boots, but it is nice to have the option, who knows where the world might take me.
We bought pens and pencils and shampoo and insect repellent and tuck.
We have now filled his tuck box.
He is really going, in just a few days.
How long this journey has been. Perhaps you might remember the very first time I went to a meeting in the Aysgarth school library when they talked about public school, and I wondered, faintly, whether he might really make it to one of these thrilling places.
The big guns. Eton and Harrow and Repton and Gordonstoun, and now he is going.
Another week and a half.
