It was reminiscent of the moment my handbag was stolen at Geneva airport. While we were staying at Atlantis I logged on to my blog. In the manner of Oscar Wilde I often read my own words when I am looking for something entertaining. In fact no one laughs at my jokes quite as much as I do.
I expected to see the familiar page; something I have grown to love and look forward to clicking on to over the past couple of years. What did I get? A picture of a young blonde woman carrying a rucksack with a message saying ‘welcome to www.helenafrithpowell.com.’
Immediately I feared the worst; a cyber stalker who had wiped out my entire on-line life. All the pictures of the children, the anecdotes, the silly things they have said, the silly things others have said, my crusade against “honour” killings and the Burmese junta, fashion tips, fashion faux pas and, most crucially, all my jokes.
I ran downstairs to where the children and Rupert were eating.
“How dreadful,” he said. “Do you feel violated?”
“Now you mention it, yes I do,” I replied. “It’s rather like someone going through your handbag and replacing it with things you don’t want. But much worse.”
“Phone him and say ‘look you doughnut, give me back my blog'” suggested Bea.
I started weeping.
“At least she’s pretty,” Olivia tried to console me. “They could have put an ugly one up there.”
“Look on the bright side,” said Rupert. “At least it will make a good blog.”
I emailed my lovely web-masters, they started panicking too, which made me even more nervous. Then a few hours later they discovered it was because the hosting of the domain had run out.
So simple but what a stressful few hours. But it did make me realise how much it means to me and how devastated I was when I thought it had gone. Rather fittingly I am giving a speech about blogs on Sunday, the title of my speech is: From print to blog or is it the other way around. Any ideas (and jokes) gratefully received.
Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008