What's your home phone number, do you want to chat?

A stalker! 11pm at night and this had just popped up on my Blackberry. "Paul - change the phone numbers, we'll have to move house, pull down the blackout blinds. Who can it be, will I be kidnapped?" Realisation dawned slowly, like most things after a glass of good white wine. It's got to be my blogger account.

I tried to explain to Paul that in an effort to drum up readers for my blog I'd activated an old Facebook account, which had never been used. I found an unanswered message from a friend from Jan 2009 for God's sake so you can see how active it is.
Anyway, in my haste I forwarded my blog to a man who I didn't know who for some reason unfathomable to me (there's no photo on my site so perhaps we have the answers right there), wanted to be my friend. Well now I'd jumped in with both feet and opened my whole life to him. No preamble, no polite conversation. Whoosh, there I am in your in tray. It had to be him obviously. A sleepless night later and I had concocted all sorts of catastrophes. Identify highjacking, credit card cloning, kidnapping. You name it it was going to happen. By 6.30am I had begun to wonder if he might be good looking and hey, I might be a certain age but, my very own stalker? Maybe that was flattering after all. Then it dawned on me. I texted my girlfriend newly returned to New Zealand. 'Are you my stalker? Did you want to chat last night'
"A stalker, you? In your dreams girl!" came back the reply. Trust your girlfriends to bring things back in perspective.