Tuesday, September 2, 2003

Today I started to make arrangements for completely closing the two Get Fluent subscription services. The final nails are all ready to be hammered in and soon I’ll be lowering the Get Fluent coffin into its very own neatly dug six foot hole.

I feel quite sad that it really is all over. My hardest work has come to this – refunds and apologies. No eleventh hour reprieves, no angel investor come to rescue me or it, no sudden flashes of genius to give me new hope. All that’s left once the finances are sorted are formalities, cheques to be sent, accounts to be closed.

It’s true the ghost of Get Fluent will continue to lurk on, in the form of a set of four Welsh language CDs that I’ll be selling in the web shop along with special limited edition merchandise which will, I hope, at least keep the company’s essential expenses paid. If I’m lucky it might even give me a little extra each month to allow me to start to make inroads on my now enormous personal debt. But I’m not kidding myself, it’s never going to feed or clothe me.

Bye bye, Get Fluent. You were fun whilst you lasted. But as Elliott Smith once said, ?A happy day, and then you pay?. In this case, possibly for the next twenty years.

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Pros
– I don’t have to cook everything, wash everything up, clean everything and iron everything, just a third of everything.
– If the phone rings when I’m in the bath, someone else can answer it.
– Better view from my desk.
– If I need to scream and rant and generally go on, there’s someone here to give me a big hug.

Cons
– I have to eat my Dad’s experimental cooking.
– Fracas with Fflwff over who gets the lion’s share of the bed (she usually wins, having sharper claws and teeth than I, and a willingness to use them).
– No broadband, and dial-up sucks arse.
– The feeling that I may have just fallen off the edge of the earth without a bungee rope attached.

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I keep thinking to myself 'Oh, I'll just get Thing X, which will help me to do Task A', and then suddenly remember that Thing X is buried in an anonymous white archive box somewhere within in a stack of 39 other identical anonymous white archive boxes in the eaves and that to get to it, I'd have to shift a whole lot of anonymous white archive boxes and is it really worth it when I can actually do Task A without Thing X?

Although the dining room is nearly clear of stuff, and my office very full of it, I still feel rather dislocated from my life right now. I keep waiting for something to click back into place, for Mum to ask me when I'm going to go back to Reading or something. It's like looking at one of those Magic Eye pictures and just waiting for the image to leap out at you in all its glory, but no matter how hard you look, all you see is just a bunch of coloured speckles.

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