I Gloss, I Glance, I Glaze Over

I met Jean-Pierre Sertin this morning, riffling through the asparagus stalks at a mid-price grocery in North-West London.

‘I hear your blog has got a new look’, says he, fondling a broccoli.

‘Yes indeed,’ say I.

‘Concessions to your readers?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, you know. The old layout was terribly hard to read. Glaring white text on a deathly black background. Luminous orange hyperlinks. All very disconcerting.’

‘I see. Yes, I suppose the new layout will make things more comfortable for my readers’

‘Then again,’ says he, idly caressing a carrot, ‘that sounds remarkably unlike you. Making things easier for your readers! I would have thought this was against your philosophy’.

I smile, as is my wont. ‘I do not seek obscurity for the sake of obscurity,’ I remind the poor man, ‘nor do I bend to the will of the majority. Whither I go, there I am’.

‘Which means what, exactly?’

Changing the subject, I ask him whether he has been reading my blog in recent times.

‘Oh no,’ he says, his hand on a potato. ‘I glance at it every now and again, but I rarely take the time to read it. I’ve never found the internet very conducive to reading. I gloss, I glance, I glaze over.’

‘Oh,’ said I. And I left him alone with the celery.


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