I suppose at some point I will take up knitting when on Skype with Daughter. You sort of feel you need to do something other than sit there saying increasingly interesting things to your screen. Even if said screen talks back [in more ways than one].
For quite some time I have been pruning my Photos while also having a conversation. I have A LOT of them. Photos. They use up all these megabytes, whatever those are. I mean, a witch does need lots of nice photos of lovely booky people, but it can be enough to have one of someone posing with outstretched arm, and one when they wave that arm, and one when they… You don’t need a dozen of each. That’s how those MBs grow.
But I’m getting close to being done with the Photos, so have turned my attention to my Mail. I don’t think it takes up any actual space on my computer, but it’s an untidy mess, even with folders mostly correctly used, and with far too many unimportant emails. You know, better to scroll through 3000 blog related emails than 5000. Maybe.
To prune you have to cast a quick glance to see what it’s about and to/from whom. And I’ve been struck by two things. One is that some of the book titles I was clearly desperate to receive and read and review, and actually did, I cannot for the life of me remember. Not in the slightest.
The other is that the emails were longer and friendlier back at the beginning. Before ‘bloggers’ inundated the book publicity scene, when publicists had time to write a few personal sentences in each message. When we had time to almost get to know each other. When they had time to read the blogs they knew about, every day.
I find I miss those emails and the relationships, if I may call them that. I must try and return to my old standards. I suppose I’ve become too jaded, not to mention rushed. As are the publicists. They don’t have the time to be nice to the same extent as they did.
As for some of the photos… with some of them I stare at the face of some author or other and I have no clue who they are. I tell myself those are the photos taken by my photographers when I wasn’t present, and the authors probably are ‘grown-up’ authors whose books I don’t know.
(I do know that’s Michael Palin on the left. But I found he posed so well that I just had no need for a hundred different Palin poses. And he’s never emailed me, as far as I recall.)