It was a new year, the weather was beautifully temperate and the Tories hadn’t recommended crucifying the unemployed, however…
This little esoteric mag was floating along with decent audience figures and a number of contributing friends and reasonably happy with its .com status, however…
One estranged friend held the key to this continued bliss. We waited, and waited, and waited through early spring as the daffodils were surprised by wandering poets, but nothing happened. We then decided to be less meek, as the deadline for renewal approached apace, and stopped waiting, instead we sent missives, not massive ones, but succinct, earnest and meaningful ones, we used all the available media barring old fashioned telephone calling.
After this furious flurry of communication, dignity still intact, if a little scorched at the extremities, we renewed our waiting stance, reasonably expectant of at least some bald information that would liberate and empower us to keep up the old mag in the manner to which we had all grown accustomed.
Spring was now in full blossom as the leaves fell off the calendar like interest in a football world cup. We counted the days in a growing and ever more eloquent silence. A silence that spoke volumes of the length of estrangement between the mag and the one person in possession of the hosting details – and the precious log in – who had now washed his hands of the association with all involved with the mag.
Temporal step by temporal step, the mag was left hanging like a piece of old wallpaper and we were left holding the paste brushes dripping with the glue that would paper the world’s walls with the decorative and modestly repetitive patterns that are The Inconsequential.
In the midst of the disappointment of a lost friend and discontinuation of a serious technical contributor to the magazine’s existence, we picked up our lip from the ground and stiffened it before setting out on some earnest research into rescuing the mag from the state of limbo it had entered.
We had to think moderately fast and make a decision without haste so we wouldn’t repent at a leisure centre. We extensively tramped along the super highway and the journey to information, looking out for pile ups, jams and toll roads.
We finally came down from the top rung of the step ladder and finished at the bottom, with our nomenclature in tact but for the small detail of .org following our household name. It’ll be just like starting again we said, stoical to the last.
It might be we are currently looking at the stars but we are, as usual, repairing the guttering ready for a deluge of renewed interest in satirical observations of a very, very odd world indeed.