But seriously folks…
So why am I writing this blog? Particularly as no one appears to be reading this!
I guess it’s a valentine to my sixteen year old self.
Now, I’m pretty happy with most of the decisions I’ve made in life. The occasional poor choice of jacket, that house-party, not getting the hint, all water under the bridge now, he winces.
No, my sixteen year old self used to love to write.
But at my school, the last two years meant no more English language classes. And that meant no more freedom to express myself – to my mind anyway. Oh for sure, there was English Literature, but that meant reading other peoples stuff and forming some kind of critique. My teachers never really got my stand on Orwell’s “Nineteen-eighty-four”, thus pre-empting the good gentlemen of the Cambridge Examining Board. And don’t get me started on Lawrence. Git!
Discouraged, I stopped writing.
I stopped wanting to write.
I didn’t write.
(Apart from the obvious, I didn’t start communicating in smoke signals or owt).
At one time I considered being a journalist, but it was thought at that time you needed a degree for that… and the afore mentioned Cambridge Board put paid to that… Couldn’t you have you considered for one simple minute that Winston & Julia were trapped in an American controlled England? Huh? Huh?
I’m over it.
Maybe that was for the best. I’d have wanted to have been a campaigning writer, a John Pilger type. The past 30 years has made that kind of writer extinct, at least in the main-stream media. It seems to be all scandal, spin & showbiz in your modern media. And in the serious media that remains, well, best to take sides with whoever is signing your pay check, perhaps.
Social media and our modern computer age opens doors.
You want to write, then go write.
And so I did again.
So there’s nobody reading, so what!
I’m leaving something behind for the ages.
These words are all my children…
Gee I can be so pompous!
No. It’s good to be writing once more, and by writing I mean typing.
Now – what next from my notebook?