A plush and zippy towel snap

The other day, I posted some Raeburns, biting my tongue a little as I discovered that a certain blogger who banishes red from his Christmas celebrations at home has only been exposed to the wrong hues. Portrait after portrait in Raeburn convinced me that a path lies open to his liberation, always assuming he can endure another. The blush of innocence is surely not too red for Darlington, I reasoned, and not so obvious as to feel like a capitulation; but then I hadn’t reckoned on the house’s mode of distributing that condition as a gift of gracious liberality.

If this “style” does not account for his blog’s intensely active following, I would count it vain in oneself to attribute it to discernment. I awoke this morning to find a note of warning that this page had been tapped for an SBA, at the very moment, indeed, when such a loan of disbelief had crossed one’s mind as a pretext for its continuance. 

The windfall of a nomination for “stylishness” by the blogger at Reggie Darling is just that, a sweet dispensation of encouragement coupled with a very guylike towel snap of chastisement. (I do hope, at this stage, that no reader will believe I condemn such venerable play). Ordinarily, such favours do not and should not befall our juniors. This blog is still not ready for compliments; it is not even ready for recognition by its own writer. But they might attract enough further benison of correction, to help it reach what it might be. Then, I hope it will help others to be offered one’s nomination for engaging readership.

__________

A word about that latter prospect, which would not have come up but for the unflagging trust of this page’s self-sought godmother, who endorsed Reggie’s act at his blog. Knowing nothing of blogging, knowing nothing of its obligations, I happened in a cursory tour d’horison upon a blog called Little Augury. 

And, in one's way of never doubting anyone would love to hear from me, I wrote to the blogger to say, I thought she had put together a really nifty model. I remember, it was her discussion of a film based on Thackeray, which prompted this message. From that idle note then poured heartening and persuasive encouragement to precipitate a page of one’s own. 


Heaven help us, I often say to Whit, there’s someone who believes in us, so we’d better make this work.

What a way we have to go, Pa.