CENSOR*D

Scandal, Scandal – Read All About It !!

It’s weird – the other day I censored my own blog.

It’s never happened before – it’s been ignored, had a hit or two of spam and even been laughed at but censored? Never!

Well, I’ve edited out some bad spelling more than once, and I’ve chosen not to say something on occasion but this time I deleted chunks - post posting!

Someone had sent an e-mail saying:

Hi BLOGWRITER.
*******more than a little unhappy ***********published the email ********sent you on you Blog. If *********have issues with what *********wrote please send then to *********first. ********think *******have crossed over a boundary here. It was ********** and *********didn't ask ********** * minded *** making it public. *******like *******to delete that post please or re write it in a way that does not include PERSON DELETED’S personal details.

Best regards ANNOYED SOMEPLACE

(this e-mail has been edited, and spell checked, to avoid any embarrassment to our readers)

I apologise for the pain caused, I was insensitive and had foolishly imagined I could share the e-mail.

However, I felt like Joseph Stalin, rewriting history, falsifying photos, sending assasins to ice pick Lenin in Mexico etc.

The last time I saw Stalin was in Seattle where he stands cast as a huge Bronze statue striding forth from a corner in the Freemont district. I think he is in front of a kebab shop that sells quite good ice cream. (actually it's not Stalin but Lenin - my mistake).

Quite good ice cream, not brilliant.

For good ice cream you either have to go to San Francisco – Mitchell’s, the Scottish lowlands or the Welsh Valleys.

I started a personal search for the world’s best ice cream after suddenly realising that the frozen lumps my mother made and served to us (again with ice picks) had started confectionary life as a powder in a tin in the pantry.

Do people still have pantries?

There is something very exciting about being a child and sneaking into the pantry, closing the door and eating the marzipan your mother was saving for the Christmas cake. I tried the ice cream powder too but it was even more disgusting in its un-reconstituted state.

My dad, who doesn’t feature enough in this blog for someone who is so tall in my memory he sometimes blocks out the sun, used to hide a box of Milktray chocolates at the back of the pantry every Friday evening.

I would try to find and lighten it every Saturday morning.

He shares a birthday month, maybe the very day, with the person who asked me to censor this blog -hmm, another coincidence!