Ra Marriage Proposal!
According to Blogpatrol, 23 people from cyberspace visited this blog yesterday. You can retrace the steps. One of the google entries was looking for Euan Thornycroft of Curtis Brown. Since he doesn't own a bit of Oxford Street yet (of course, he'll own a bit. His daddy will have given him it!), if you put his name into google, RaBlissBlog comes up. Please don't sue! Eaun Thornycroft, I haven't got any money unless you get me some! Even replying to the package you asked for a hundred years ago would be a good idea!
He's probably a nice person. Put your name into Google, Eaun or Euan ... luckily nobody can spell your name, so libelling you would be a waste of time.
So I tried to find if putting Pat Kavanagh into google would find RaBlissBlog. No, Pat Kavanagh seems to be a hockey player. How she combines being an incredibly rich agent with playing hockey is beyond me. But a photograph of her came up. It's in some portrait gallery and is with her husband, Julian Barnes, who I believe is very famous in France. In my heart, I knew the only way I'd get a literary agent was to marry one, so I emailed her immediately with a proposal of marraige. Which I can't spell. Anyway, being rich and being able to spell and being married to a famous novelist isn't everything. It's eleven o clock on a lovely Edinburgh morning. Nobody to bother me. A whole day fooling around in ra bliss!
He's probably a nice person. Put your name into Google, Eaun or Euan ... luckily nobody can spell your name, so libelling you would be a waste of time.
So I tried to find if putting Pat Kavanagh into google would find RaBlissBlog. No, Pat Kavanagh seems to be a hockey player. How she combines being an incredibly rich agent with playing hockey is beyond me. But a photograph of her came up. It's in some portrait gallery and is with her husband, Julian Barnes, who I believe is very famous in France. In my heart, I knew the only way I'd get a literary agent was to marry one, so I emailed her immediately with a proposal of marraige. Which I can't spell. Anyway, being rich and being able to spell and being married to a famous novelist isn't everything. It's eleven o clock on a lovely Edinburgh morning. Nobody to bother me. A whole day fooling around in ra bliss!
posted by Hotboy at 10:45 AM
4 Comments:
hotboy. I thought the deal was that I do the tech advice. I'm impressed. How do you find out what google entries led visitors to you? robmcj.
hotboy, I've just seen how to do it, if I was younger I suppose I'd say - that is s-o-o-h cool. How can blogpatrol make any money out of providing this sort of analysis to freeloaders like wurr selves? robmcj.
If I knew how to make money, I'd be a millionaire! Hotboy
On the Unheard of McDonald Islands this morning, the cream of society turned out to pay tribute to the short but troubled life of Nobis Ralwin.
The beachside dawn funeral for the surfing songster and amateur cricketer, in which I took part via binoculars for obvious reasons, was sombre and understated, as I'm told he would have wished. I'll say this for the McDonald Islanders, they know how to do things at half-mast.
Though Nobby is gone forever, I can't help feeling that he'll still be with us, in some sense.
Robmcj (eyewitness)
c/o MIMI
PS the final chapter of his decline is starkly documented in ThissBlog, also here and here .
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