Years. Eleven bleeding years. Why choose now to come back to this?

Because I’d remembered the login details, and I have more time on my hands from not travelling to and from work every day.

Too many things have happened in the intervening years to recall as things stand. Maybe some time of introspection now will be helpful. Allow me to unload and reorder some of the many thoughts scurrying around my head. Perhaps sharing these random events in the life of a nobody will be enlightening and rewarding to another.

“I’m nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there ’s a pair of us—don’t tell!
They ’d banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!”

Emily Dickinson

Who am I kidding? No one reads this. And no one will read this. Which is the beauty about being able to write what the hell I like.

But why?!

Why use a dead social media form, especially using a blog that was never alive anyway? I haven’t got anything to flog, no ad revenue will be generated from whatever I post; I don’t have superb photography skills and a back catalogue of stunning photos to upload; I don’t want to limit myself to 240 characters at a time to mutter my glib points of view to an audience that is already saturated with falsehoods, gifs and other glib points of view, whilst being aware that at any point someone will crash into my mentions to “correct” me on something or just to tell me how wrong I am in my glibness; I don’t have to worry about likes, sharing, over-sharing, other people’s opinions.

I’m free here.