Who are the longest running UK bloggers, asks Mike, in his first post since January. The question has been discussed one word at a time all over twitter, provoking me to lose a couple of hours in the Rise archives, which have been sufficiently trimmed to leave only long descriptions of my failure to live in Hungary, and extracts from my teenage diaries.
This seems to be a good time to make a history of the Uborka Cocktail Hour. It began as a tea party in 2003, serving earl grey and many types of cake; Londonmark was particularly keen on the lemon fondant fancies.
At some point this genteel virtual gathering was corrupted, probably by Dr Pockless who always did and always does turn up with a nice shirt, a curmudgeonly attitude, and a grunt of “mine’s a pint.” He did at one point provide us with a nice logo, though.
One of the highlights of the cocktail hour was Stuart & Krissa’s Online Engagement Party, hosted with aplomb by the abovementioned Mike.
The most common theme has been death.
The traditional cocktail hour format has been an invitation early on Friday, with orders placed in the comments; followed a few hours later by a witty round-up. Back in the day when we used hover tags, the best jokes were a mouseover away. These days I am too lazy to write the round-up post, and deservedly, cocktail drinkers have dwindled.
Today I promise to serve your drinks in the late afternoon, if you would be so kind as to leave an order, in the style of your early-years-of-blogging self (or any old style if you don’t have an early years of blogging), right down there in the commentses.
I’ve been blogging since January 2005. My early blogself is pretty similar to my current blogself, I think? Though maybe with more questions.
I would like ice. Just ice, lots of it. With maybe some lemon and lime wedges mixed in.
I just had fish fingers with mac & cheese for lunch. It felt a little bit subversive, like crossing the lunch streams or something. I’ve never tried that combo before – but the chips looked uninspired. A bit flappy and anaemic. The mac & cheese was good, but not the best I’ve ever had. That came from the Epic Roasthouse in San Francisco, the day after we got engaged. It was amazing.
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I’ve been getting the Tube a lot more recently. From March to Mid-July it was the Victoria Line from Victoria to Warren Street. Three stops. Just about doable, except when the overcrowding at Victoria was too hideous. Overcrowding aside, it was at least, pretty reliable. Not so for the Circle Line. In two weeks of commuting, I’ve only managed to get the Circle Line within 5 minutes twice, maybe three times. The worst being several hundred people being stuck on the platform at Paddington, like lemmings looking for a cliff, for more than 20 minutes, with no idea whether a train would arrive at any point this year, never mind where it might be going. So frustrating. I wound up getting the District Line to Earl’s Court and changing platforms on to a District Line train going back the other direction to Victoria. And my entire commute took 2 and a half hours door to door. Grim. Still, could be worse. I still love the view from the train as we leave Swanley and then pass under the M25 into NotLondon. It’s beginning to feel like home.
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I used to really like blogging. When it didn’t have to be about anything. I didn’t have to be a lifestyle blogger, or a mummy blogger or a career blogger or anything. I could just write, and be me, and people could read, or not, and comment, or not, and then twitter came along and basically, I realised that most of my writing could be summarised and expressed in 140 characters or less and my blog withered and died. I miss it. I’m very glad that Uborka is here and staying resolutely old school though. I’ve realised that I’ve done more of the kind of blogging that I used to do here than on any of my own blogs this year, which is weird.
Anyway. Welcome to blogging pixeldiva 2004 style.
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I’ll have a Whisky Old Fashioned please.
I’ve been listening to my old student radio shows this week, and apart from sounding older and less Northern, as far as I can tell I haven’t changed a bit.
For old times sake I’ll have a white Russian.
I can’t remember when I started blogging. But I remember going back through my archives after a domain change and realising that I had maybe three posts that I wanted to keep. The rest were pretty much single paragraph entries about nothing.
Twitter suits me much more as a home, but Uborka is a fun place to visit.
I’m heading to a wedding at thee weekend, so might as well get started on the bubbly early, fizz please!
I toyed with idea of blogging for years.
My first excuse was a total lack of technical knowledge and not having anyone around me who could help me set it up. Then Blogger came along and my excuse was it would interfere with work, which was writing and talking all day, so why would I want to come home and do more of the same?
Then I told myself that I what I really wanted to write would hurt other people, until I realised that I had nothing interesting to confess.
Then Twitter came along, and Tumblr… and ….
I’m still dipping toes with food blogging, because I see a shocking lack of writing and photos about food on the internet.
Speaking of food, D and I are heading out to the First Friday food truck bonanza at Parc Olympic tonight. Diet schmyat. I will take many hipster pictures of food in and on paper containers. WOO!
A small Gin and Tonic please. I need to leave room for the duck confit taco.
Yes, I linked to the July edition, because links for tonight’s edition assume people already know what it is. Montreal’s like that.
Last night I was at a restaurant whose menu was littered with typos. I ordered a cocktail called “Desperate Royals” and was disappointed when the waiter delivered it as a “Royale”
I also ordered a Goat’s cheese tart. The other waiter delivered it and said “Who’s the…”, looked flummoxed.
“I’m the goat’s cheese,” I said, rescuing her.
Decades ago, my sister’s friend’s parents took out friend, sister and my cousin for lunch. Cousin was anxious to order in line with friend’s parents – not appear greedy or whatever. Friend’s mother ordered a trout so cousin said “I’ll have the trout like you Dorothy”. Part of family folklore now!
Oh, the ‘Desperate Royals’ was gin infused with saffron, and another spirit added. Can’t quite remember. They’ve been open two months ‘website coming soon’. Marketing mistake, in my opinion.
Oops I missed the part about of ‘in the style of…’. Sorry.
Oh, I thought you’d nailed it, Gert.
Went for beer with K, P, G, A, C and assorted picture postcards. Got home late and it was raining. Then I added a now-dead link to something entirely random on Ananova.
I’ll have a pint of Staropramen, please and thank you.
I am writing this comment on a smartphone, on a train from Leeds to Knaresborough. I could never have done this in 2004, and yet my output back then was prodigiously high. Go figure.
This week, I have been re-reading my earliest archives, which have so far taken me to the end of February 2002. Oh, the writing style. Oh, the over-sharing. But the posts have reminded me of so many aspects of what life was like by then. Without them, many memories would have been lost.
This lunchtime, I had a toasted sandwich from
Starbucks. It was deeply unmemorable.
There’s a gang of lads at the far end of this carriage, chanting and clapping. Maybe civilised discourse is beyond them.
I am hot and sweaty, and in need of a Cosmopolitan, please. I drank a lot of them in 2004.
Oh, and re Gert’s comment: a couple of years ago, a gay friend of mine was having lunch with his parents. He ordered duck liver. The waitress came to the table with the dishes. “I’m the dick lover”, he chirped.
Shall we have spoonerism cocktails next week? I don’t think we’ve ever done that.