Although this is a blog - and blogs are traditionally (if such a word can be used of so new a medium even though the form it strives to replace - the diary - is ages old) places of self-revelation, not to mention angst - it is not my intention to spill all the beans, as it were (and beans do not, at any rate, form a regular part of my diet, excessive flatulence being one of the rather less welcome parts of the ursine genetic inheritance) by laying out my life on a plate, so to speak, for you to consume - or not - at your leisure.
So, dear readers, I am not about to expound autobiographically on my cubhood (which, were it only more widely known, is still only three-quarters run) or pass on titbits or, you might say, gobbets of information about my parents, relations and ancestors.
Instead, let me show you a family photo - which is to say a photo of a member of my family rather than the whole shebang which would, after all, be rather too large to fit on the computer screen which one might reasonably expect to find on the desk of any respectable home, or den. No; rather than that I would like to set out more modestly, with a picture of one of my many cousins:
Yes, I'm aware that my graceful form also features in this photo. I can assure you that the reason for this is perfectly simple and straightforward and that I am not - and have never been - an egotist. The subject of eggs is one that is quite foreign to me. It is simply to assure you that my red bow tied friend is indeed an acquaintance of mine and not some poor random creature snatched from his forest home by a ruthless wildlife photographer.I shall not object in the slightest if you decide to adorn your escritoire or armoire with a copy of my photograph. In fact, I should be more than happy to furnish you with my autograph on request. Not for nothing are we pandas equipped with an opposed thumb! If not, of course, for the holding of pens, pencils or other scribing tools.
With my very best wishes,
PS Panda
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