Me: Yes, Year 11 Boy?
Year 11 Boy: When I'm not at school, do you still exist?
Me: Probably not no. You're homework still exists though...
And as bizarre as this was for a conversation starter it did stir up the old grey matter a bit. For the vast majority of the world I do not, in fact, exist. At no point do I cross their minds, at no point do they stumble across me in the street, in a bar, in a gutter. I am not a real person. To people who've never met me, I do not not exist. And, in all fairness, even some people I have met question how real a person I might be.
Which is sort of why I'm grown a bit more comfortable blogging. I started off only talking about the book - cos I wasn't comfortable with anything else. And now look? Philosophy. Sort of.
Anyway - I like this cos most people who read my blog don't know me. Have never met me. Have no idea what I look like, are unaware that I'm typing wearing a Dangermouse T-Shirt and shorts beneath a Big Winter Dressing Gown.
I might live on your street. I might be your neighbour. (Sinister no?) Worse still: I might educate your children (duhduhduhdummmmmmmmm) Terrifying isn't it?
Unless, of course, Year 11 Boy is correct. Unless of course I don't exist. This whole thing could be an entirely randomly selected group of letters accidentally created by some bug in the Blogspot brain.
Would explain a lot...
Oh, me thinks I hear a *Bing*
Or do I?