a blogger walks into a bar...

... and the barman says "why the long silence?"

There are four principal reasons for the current hiatus:

1. My partner has been unwell, and my time and attention has been (and is) focused on caring for her.
2. My mother, likewise.
3. My employer has requested (firmly) that I take a step up in my responsibilities in order to develop my career with them (such as it is). The economic situation dictates that there is precious little room for discussion on this subject.
4. I'm in my mid thirties and the time I had earlier in my life for musing, whimsy, fanciful explorations and tangential discursions etc. has been squeezed by the mundane and the quotidian. All that good hearty curiosity about things that used to seep into the spaces between sleep, work and social life has dried up or gone underground, like London's rivers. Or maybe, ageing, I've become less curious. Who knows?

While the paucity of my creativity causes me no end of frustration and dismay, I willingly give my time to those I love without demur, so I can't be sorry about the way things have worked out. I certainly can't consider shutting the door on the world and writing simply because it pleases me to do so. To be the person I want to be, I put others' needs before my own. That way, I can sleep at night. It makes me a worse writer, I know. I'll live with that.

thirteen degrees centigrade. cloudy.

I've added a couple of new photo galleries here.

I've been too busy enjoying this unseasonably fine weather to worry about writing anything I'm afraid. I did come across a very good essay over at Merlin Mann's 43 Folders, though, so why don't you go and read that?

five degrees centigrade. rain.

Today was the first time I've woken up on 1st January without a hangover in the whole of my adult life. As far as I remember anyhow. From this you may conclude: I am not the same man today that I was a year ago.

Squarespace at last launched their long-awaited iPad app in late December. That makes writing for this blog much, much easier. I really do hope I can post more often this year. But I am badly out of practice, and low on confidence. I am also unsure I actually have anything to say any more. I'd like to think I do, of course. Only time will tell. For now I will just say: love to you all, and please come back from time to time to see how I'm getting on.

seven degrees centigrade. cloudy.

My mind has been somewhat cluttered of late. My writing has echoed this internal confusion, and has been unfit for publishing here. It takes me too many words to say what I wish to say. It is a profligacy I find painful. Embarrassing, even.

When I lived in London I could go months without seeing the sun rise. Tower blocks filled the east face of my bedroom. Low lying cloud. Alcoholic daze. Depression. Now my London life is in the past. I watched the sun rise twice this week, and felt a little of the old clarity returning, like a lake when the rain stops: ripples, gradually fading to a looking-glass flatness. This is a feeling to cultivate.

nineteen degrees centigrade. rain.

I'm back, people. And I'm gonna blow you away.