July 9, 2012 by benmblackman
How do you write a blog then?
What are the rules?
Am I allowed to ask so many questions or should I be telling you stuff or opinionating (am I allowed to make up words)?
I thought maybe a good start is to tell you why this blog is called Red Trouser Days. But before then, why the blog? Well, if you’ve read my ‘About Me‘ section (there will be a test so please do) you will know – I really want to be a writer and I am aspiring to be just that. My wife (who is much cleverer than me and usually right – don’t tell her I told you this) has for a long time been telling me that, therefore, I should be ‘blogging’.
‘But I haven’t got time, but I don’t want to, but nobody will read it, but I just want to write a book…’ etc etc I have said for too many months now. Well we just got back from a fantastic holiday in Cornwall – you know, one of those truly getting away from it style affairs when you have no mobile phone reception and too many beaches and all the time in the world (well – just one week unfortunately but for that week we had all the time in the world, and as much wine, fish & chips, bakery products and aspirations as we could muster). On the journey down we had the ‘you should be blogging’ conversation and instead of being an annoying ‘no but, yer but, no but, yer but, no but’ fool I just accepted that the good lady was correct and I should listen to her and just blog.
So here we are. Mrs B has set it up for me – I’ll give her 10% of all future blog royalties or a biscuit (whichever is the cheapest).
Anyhow – back to Red Trouser Days. On the journey back from Cornwall we had a 30 minute brain storming session for what the blog will be called. I have to admit – I really had no ideas (‘Ben’s Blog’ was already taken by a Ben who was obviously a bit quicker on to this blogging thing than me). So, we somehow ended up on Red Trousers. I have for some years now yearned to be one of those men you see (usually 50 years plus, often 50 inch plus waistline) strolling noncholantly around the train station, airport, countryside, village show, museum, theatre, cafè, pub, etc – wearing red trousers. Please note, I don’t just mean any old red trousers. These would certainly not fit the bill:
Red Trousers – Incorrect
I mean these bad boys:
Red Trousers – Correct
Whilst, I’m not sure if I would actually ever wear any myself (I’m far too much of a pleb and poor to even consider trying to pull them off, or should I say on) it’s not so much the trousers that are important to me you should know. Like everybody will tell you – ‘it’s what’s inside that counts’ isn’t it? So, it’s the man behind them, or inside them, that counts for me. They just always look so relaxed and chilled out and in control of their life. Like they don’t have a care in the world. They’ve done the hard yards, now it’s time to saunter around observing life, drinking real ale, eating cheese, snorting a lot instead of laughing and cruising down the motorway with the wife to the point to point races in the range rover – hip flask inside tweed jacket and picnic (including at least one fully roasted animal and bottle of home made sloe gin) nestled in the boot next to hugo the chocolate labrador. The kids, grandkids and lifelong family friends will meet them there and they will all have a ruddy nice day.
I know many people detest this sort of man (and trouser alike I’m sure) but not me. I know I’ve still got to put a lot of hard yards in but – it doesn’t stop me dreaming of red trouser days does it?