P. D. Clifton

At one point I was thinking of numbering all of these blog posts I’ve written with Roman numerals, rather than giving them titles.

This would have been a challenge, as I really can’t remember how to do Roman numerals.

But why would you do something so pretentious in the first place? you might ask.

Well, here’s the reason.

If I’d given all of these posts Roman numerals (instead of titles), when I got to post one hundred… I’d have to number it with the Roman numeral C!

And the letter C, of course, has some significance in this journal. You know, like ‘C’ as in The Big C. Cancer.

Or maybe C for Covid. Or the countryside. Or Cedric the dog. Or any of the other subjects starting with the letter ‘C’ featured in this blog. (OK, I hate the fact this gives Cedric as much prominence as Lizzie’s cancer. But you get the idea).

So anyway, if post one hundred was numbered ‘C’ that would obviously make it an extra-significant section. Filled with wise words and conclusions (another C) on the weighty themes explored throughout.

Except… I couldn’t think of anything particularly significant or wise to say, in my proposed ‘C’ post.

And also, the more I thought about it, the idea of heading all the other posts with Roman numerals – just to make this one post more interesting – began to seem pretentious. And, frankly, a bit ridiculous.

So I dropped the idea. And this bit you’re reading – like the fragment of Roman wall at Tower Hill station in the City of London – is all that remains of it.

So why have I mentioned it at all? you might be wondering.

It’s a good question, and it’s clearly because I haven’t been able to let the idea go. I’ve been unable to ‘kill my darlings.’ After all, I want you to know about my smart ‘C’ concept! I still want credit for it! I want you to know how clever I’ve been, with the whole Roman numerals thing!

But you’re probably not thinking that. You’re probably thinking… drop it, Clifton, you big weirdo. And get back to some proper writing.

And, of course, you’re absolutely right. That’s exactly what I should do. To quote a wise Scandinavian (not Roman) lady, Let It Go, Clifton, Let It Go.

So I will.

Normal service resumes now.

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