“I enjoyed that,” she said.
“What?” I asked.
“You last post,” silly.
“You make it sound like it was a military tune played on a bugle,” I said.
“Well, it was more of a song than a poem really, wasn’t it. Anyway you’re not too bad at this writing stuff.”
I was going to thank her, but I wasn’t completely sure it was a compliment.
“What?” I answered.
“The picture of a hippo of course,” she said.
“Well I was looking for a picture that summed up the idea of a poem that was like a song, but I couldn’t think of one. So I thought instead I’d post a nice picture of a hippo. I like hippos.”
She rolled her eyes wearily.
“Anyway,” she said, “you were telling them about yourself.”
“Telling who?” I asked.
“The people who read this blog,” she answered.
I thought for a moment.
“You mean people are out there reading this?”
“Of course!” she said. “All over the world, all over the Internet, people are reading your blogpost even now.”
“Why can’t I see them then?” I asked
“Because this is the Internet, silly.”
“Less of the silly please,” I said. “I’m a venerable old man and I expect to be treated with a certain degree of deference, you know.” She looked at me sheepishly, but she didn’t apologise. “So where is this Internet thingy,” I asked.
“It’s in cyberspace,” she answered.
I thought about that one for a moment. “So, the people reading this, you mean they’re all Cybermen, like on Dr Who?”
She looked at me quizzically. “I can see you’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
“Well it’s all right for you,” I said. “You didn’t even exist before this Internet business came along. It’s second nature to you.”
“Just as well for you then, isn’t it?” she replied. “They’ve given me some really difficult cases to work with in my time, but I’m having trouble remembering another one as tough as you.”
And with that she flew off. Not in a rage though. I think she’ll be back.