I'm coming towards the end of a week off work and have been pondering whether or not to kickstart my blog again. If you're reading this, it seems I have. If I had the energy and willpower and conviction, I'd stick at it - wouldn't I?
This blog is called Do Your Worst because it was always meant to be a place where I just write - do MY worst at it - and sod the badly composed consequences. It's about having a thought, opening up my site and putting it down. It'd also be nice to make connections with people and hopefully "inform, educate and entertain" ... oh no, that's the day job seeping through into my hometime scribblings.
The phrase "do your worst" was also meant to be a kind of nod towards, well, the deity. Him up there. Or her. It's something like ... c'mon, throw all you've got at me, it's not going to put this spark out. A vague nod, I suppose, towards the fact that I went blind when I was a teenager and, in the same year, also had major open heart surgery.
Ya know, thinking back on it, 1984 was a pretty crap year. And it's only now in my early 40s that I've started looking back on what happened with a sense of clarity and disbelief at what happened and how I wriggled my way out. More will unfold here on related matters I'm sure.
Let's see if the writing continues. I'll try and put some pics in from time to time but they're a bit harder to do.
On that note, I can hear a 1 year old screaming outside this room and ought to go and tend to her.
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