For the last few days I haven't done my duty as an advertising blogger. Instead of writing about the "death of this," or institutional hubris and cupidity, or the stupidity of a new campaign, I have reprinted excerpts of a diary I found last weekend in the dark recesses of my deep dark closets.
I have, I guess I am lucky this way, old-school closets that seem to keep going back and up. They hold whatever I put in them and seem, at all times, voraciously hungry for more. It's no wonder, then, that I missed the box for twenty years that help the turn-of-the-century diary of Ned Doyle, a young man a century ago, adjusting to life in America.
Ned's life is surely more interesting than ours in advertising. But advertising is what we do here, and the reason behind this blog. So if you've been disappointed the last few days, fear not. I will come back to ad writing soon.
Thanks for indulging me and my diary.