The ghost of Queen Ingrid

The thing is with the internet, I'm increasingly finding... is the past keeps resurfacing through various routes, all virtual. It's all a little disconcerting, it's like history on a loop, a perpetual reminder of things past and irretrievable, yet sometimes quite desirable. Sometimes quite forgettable, but never regrettable. I shouldn't say things, it's not things, it's people, people who pop up from the murky soup of the past and make me question the flavour of my croutons (ok, i'm pushing the metaphors here but so what, it's my blog). Ingrid was one of my very first female aquaintainces. I've only stumbled upon her in cyberspace through a friend of a friend, connecting past lives (as I too have done). The weird thing, which is really not weird at all, is that all these people have lives and children, (most older than mine). In my mind they are all frozen in 1989. I have frozen them there, where I left them, quite abruptly and looking back, quite ruthlessly.