Back in the day

In the four months since last my last post events have conspired to force me to live my life rather than write about it. So much has happened it’s difficult to know where to begin. Although on the rare chance that Fe actually bothers to read my blog I suppose it would be wise of me to start off with the news of my engagement.

Almost as heart warming and nearly as surprising is the news that Fulham are still in Europe. I’ve only just got back from a 3-day trip to Wolfsburg to watch us make it through to the quarterfinals. Living the bloody dream. And it was whilst in Germany that I decided it was long overdue to bring my blog back up to date.

The only attention I’ve given it of late was after it got infected by a virus that re-directed users to a strange Turkish porn site. No wonder my hit count had gone up so much.

The other unusual thing is that I appear to have attracted a small following in China. I’m not sure what the comments they are making mean - but welcome aboard, my friends!

It is scandalous I haven’t updated more often especially when you consider how much has happened since me and my bro travelled to Rome to get robbed by a referee. It reminds me when I kept a secret diary and the only time I ever used to write anything was when something bad had happened.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that I once kept a diary. It’s logical that the type of person who keeps a blog that nobody reads should also be the type of person who would scribble away in a diary that nobody should have read. For many a candle lit evening was spent in my room, door locked, grunge crackling away on my dusty record player, pen in hand and life’s woes being brought to bear. It’s a tight call on what I’ve spent more time on. Trying to stop people reading my diary or trying to get them to read my blog. In neither have I been particularly successful.

From the ages of 13 to 30 I kept irregular updates on life and if they were to be delved into now not only would it be cringe worthy it would appear I had lived a pretty depressing life. For when the good times were occurring I was out and about enjoying them to the maximum. However when things were going against me I’d be back behind the locked door, putting the world to rights in old faithful.

For apart from being useful when compiling a hit list or trying to work out the top ten hottest girls in my class, keeping a diary, and a blog, has always been a therapeutic exercise. Getting problems down on a page has always made them seem more manageable. Sometimes making promises to myself on paper was the first step towards achieving them in real life.

No doubt the recurring promises throughout my diary writing years would become repetitive and involve similar aspects of life. Giving up cigarettes, cutting down on the drink, reducing my overdraft, getting a nice girlfriend and in general sorting my life out exclamation mark, exclamation mark.

And it would be a bit weird if I now used my blog in the same way. Though thankfully there’s no need, as finally I seem to have managed to give up cigarettes, cut down on my drink, reduce my overdraft, sort my life out and get a nice girlfriend, although Fe would probably disagree on the drinking part.

So my blog serves a different purpose, namely to keep a record of the things that I find and do that are interesting rather than a list of things that I find depressing.

What does link both a blog and a diary together is that neither is properly reflective of the life and times if left to itself. And ahead of what could be the defining twelve months of my life it’s time to bring my blog back up to date.