I just wrote a somewhat awkward “goodbye” message over at Substack, where I had been experimenting with writing personal blog posts for the last several months (not for the first time).

I changed my mind…

I’m returning to WordPress, but still not quite letting go of Tumblr, because I have too many memories wrapped up in it. Too many echoes of forgotten friendships to quite close the lid on it entirely.

You might not have even noticed I wasn’t “here” for the past little while, unless you read my about page, where I confessed my sins. I’m thinking that if I don’t try to be everywhere, I might have more of a chance at being somewhere. Hopefully that makes a little bit of sense?

I might choose a different theme for the blog though – it’s look and feel. We’ll see.


First day back at work today after a few days away. It’s been quiet so far – which is good, I suppose. Lots of coffee has been consumed. Several hot cross buns no longer exist.

Since returning from the coast yesterday evening, in between working I’ve been on something of a chore marathon around the house. It doesn’t look like I’ve achieved very much, but I feel better for having at least tried.

I may have volunteered to make dinner this evening. I forgot all about it until I started writing this. You can’t see me sighing, can you.


A few words

It’s been a few days since I last polluted the internet with any thoughts. I think the biggest surprise to me is that I haven’t really missed writing. I thought I would.

Life continues to be quiet.

Saying that, we have been invited out to visit neighbours for dinner this evening – a reunion of sorts of school parents – our children progressed through junior school together. It’s going to be fun.

While sitting out on the green with neighbours a few of weeks ago – an excuse we all used to use to grab a drink with each other – the conversation turned to what we had all been doing over the past year or so. Guilty admission followed guilty admission. Nobody had really done anything. Nothing has become the new normal.

I kept quiet about descending into my own Abed Nadir world of pretend aeroplanes (Community reference – we’ve been binge-watching it at home recently).

Actually – while mentioning Community – perhaps you can clear this up for me. In the middle of the LEGO Movie, Emmet names a number of cats that cross his path. The final cat has a deep voice, and is introduced as “Jeff”. I’m pretty sure it’s Joel McHale, “Jeff Winger” from Community. I wonder if anybody has ever jumped down the internet rabbit hole to find that one out?

Anyway. We need to go soon, so I should stop writing. Maybe I’ll just pause here, and write more when I get home…

(and entire evening passes)

It’s now 11am on Sunday morning. I’ve already cut the lawn.

Last night was fun. It’s easy to become stuck in an insular world of work, chores, errands and so on – before you know it, you haven’t seen friends for months or even years.

The evening whistled by. We laughed, told stories, reminisced about the past, and looked forward to the future together. Our children are all growing up. While we are of course apprehensive for them, we’re also adjusting to a new normal of our own – our lives are changing too.

We got home just before our daughters, who returned from the pub where Miss 18 had worked until closing time.

In other news, I’ve begun stripping away the results of recent tinkering – reducing the blog to it’s core at WordPress. Given my sphere of work there is always going to be a temptation to delve into the machinery of the internet, and lose sight of the reason I am here in the first place. While I might not agree with walled gardens, platforms, and “the man”, there are benefits to “just writing”, and taking advantage of platforms I don’t have to look after.


The remains of Sunday are stretched out ahead of me. Perhaps a cup of coffee might be a good first step.


Going Out Out

We are heading out this evening for a meal at the local pub with friends – to celebrate my other half’s birthday. Escaping for a few hours of sensible conversation with grown-ups. Except we know that’s not true, don’t we.

I wonder how long it will take the children to figure out that we are only sensible when they are within shouting distance? When left to my own devices – particularly when paired with good friends – I naturally transmogrify back towards my real self. I suspect most people do.

Of course it’s not quite the real self that existed before kids and cars and houses and every other millstone that has dragged behind me for the last however many years – but I like to think it is.

I read a newspaper story recently about a man that faked his identity, became a student, and went back to college – ten years after he originally left. Nobody found out until years later.

It’s appealing in a strange sort of way – the conceit of going back in time, but carrying the knowledge, skills, and experience you have with you. I suppose it’s a bit like time travel. I’m not so sure it’s such a great idea though – while the academic side of life would become a walk in the park, having you spent any time with teenagers?

They. Never. Stop. Talking.

Seriously. And the drama. Oh my word the drama. And the 24/7 availability for interaction on “Insta”, or “WhatsApp”, or whatever the hell other mobile app you might use to prettify, distort, or instantly cosplay yourself.


We are escaping to the pub for a few hours. A few hours with good friends, a drink of something vaguely anaesthetic, and a belly full of stodgy food. We can’t afford to do it often, but today seems like as good an excuse as any.