Tippex

I reckon I’m a better writer than I am a speaker.  The thing about writing is that it gives me time to reflect.  The process of writing itself makes me slow down, consider my words, think about what it is I actually think.  The process of writing for publication, whether it is here, or elsewhere, makes me pause for longer.  How will what I write be received?  Who will be reading it?  What will they think of my words; will they hurt them?

When I’m talking away my mouth has a tendency to run away with me.  I get nervous, or excited (I don’t get out much), or too easily muddle my internal, ranty world with the external every-day one.  I say all sorts of silly or hurtful or insensitive things, and, once I’ve said them, I have no idea how to dig myself out of a hole, especially if I’m talking to people who I don’t know very well, or the social situation leaves me unsure.  Friends and family are well used to my verbal attempts to untangle myself, accustomed to the apologies and stumbles, the blushes when I realise I’ve put my foot in it, or walked into a piss take.

There isn’t a delete key in conversation.

Thank goodness there is one on this computer.

When I was younger, and computers were things that your dad had and you weren’t really allowed to use them because they were for work, I used to be well acquainted with Tippex.

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