…which makes me feel a little sad, because I did not want a blog to shut down. All it would have taken was an acknowledgement and a due line of credit for the said post. But, I guess, having accepted compliments for said post had already meant said plagiarist had backed herself into a corner and had no escape route…
I am overwhelmed and teary eyed and feel blessed that folks rushed out brandishing swords and comments on my behalf, and felt wronged enough to take time out to complain to WordPress for me, before I could even think of doing so (Thanks a mill, Kodi’s Mom), put up posts decrying this outright highway robbery, thanks MadMomma, Serendipity, Arpit, Ersa; send out comments to everyone possible to spread the word around, put it up on Twitter, thanks Poonam….
And I’m glad I kicked up a bit of a fuss…it was too personal a post to let me let it go without a fight. An apology would have been nice though. This was just too cowardly an exit.
What can I say? A girl is lucky to have friends like you!
So, please do forgive me if I dont reply to each comment individually….this is one of those mad mad days when I need to go shopping asap for beach wear, because, you guessed it right, am off to the beach again. Driving down to Goa tomorrow with the spouse and the child and drawing out a road map right now, and downloading google earth maps and such like, given the horrors we went through going off track last trip down.
The camera is off colour, so need to go buy me a new one. Some shorts (yes, yes, stop smirking, I am so not getting into a swimsuit given that I would cause a bad case of conjunctivis amongst innocent bathers by the sea), the last time I was there my sole pair of shorts split on me in a public situation and had to go scurrying to them shops lining the access road to the beach and yell out to the surprised man to give me anything he had in XXL right now. And didnt bargain.
I also have to pack. Which means many bottles of water. Filtered. For the journey too and fro. Many packets of Frooti tetrapaks. Many packets of Lays Tomato flavour. Infinite biscuits, chocolates and such like which keep the child happy and content and less likely to keep whining about when he can hit the beach. Toys. Toys. And more toys. Of which exactly three will be utilised for entertainment purposes. Many carefully coordinated ensembles of which I will inevitably end up wearing one set for the entire duration of the stay there, which will have folks at the hotel speak to me in kind gracious manner and ask me where the parents of the child are, and how convenient it is when the maid comes along for the holiday, and how much do I get paid for minding the kid.
And if any of you good folks happen to be in the vicinity, if you see fat woman running after scrawny child on Calangute, while simultaneously holding onto hat in terror of getting grilled to charcoal*, shake a hand. Fort Aguada, here we come.
Edited: * original phrase changed since I might offend more folks with my original choice of words, and god knows, I have zero mental energy to take on any more battles today…