It’s true… I struggle to update this blog regularly and I have for the last decade, really. Partly it’s because social media put a real dent in blogs—regrettably, for me, as I have always disliked so-called social media… and only real popular blogs have weathered the storm somewhat unscathed. So it’s a major disincentive to bother with a blog when you know no one bothers looking at it unless you personally prod them into doing so!
And life itself—the complications, the distractions, the tragedies, the endless quest for income and stability… it’s heavy. Who needs to blog about that or prioritise blogging to a silent or non-existent audience instead of focusing on important stuff?!
Well, who knows. I’d like to keep the blog alive regardless, although I also realise that when I emphasise work over personal, as I have done the last few years (hence keeping the archive of more personal or trivial stuff offline lately), that can be even less interesting! To some folks, anyway. We’ve all become our own personal reality TV show channels, sadly. I don’t regard this as progress, to be honest. Just because it’s a new development socially or culturally doesn’t automatically mean it’s an improvement.
Speaking of the above-mentioned life complications and tragedies, one of them came in early May. I took a week’s holiday in Wales with my colleague, friend and landlord, Mr Steve Green—my first visit to Wales, where I spent most of my childhood Summers, in more than 30 years, astonishingly. And it was mostly a great time, even if my revisit of the campsite/town where I spent so much time as a little kiddie was cut a little short. (I need to go again sometime! I didn’t explore it as I really wanted to.) But on the very last day, five minutes before we were due to head back for home… Steve’s little dog, Oscar, bolted through the front door and squeezed through the front gates of the cottage.
Which led directly to the main road where frequent cars are apt to speed by with little regard for road safety.
One such car hit Oscar and didn’t trouble itself to stop (as required by the law)—and the local vet could do nothing to help him as he’d sustained huge brain damage.
Five minutes before we were heading back for home. Really.
You couldn’t make it up. Sickening. A nice holiday basically ruined.
RIP, Oscar. Only three and a half years old.
Tikki the Westie is fine, anyhow. She has missed Oscar a fair bit, but dogs are a lot less emo than humans overall.
All that being said, I’ve been working on a bunch of things recently and I’ll be posting some of that in the coming days. Not all of it—not sure what I’m doing with it all right now. But expect some new artwork.
And so, stay tuned, if you’re out there! Anyone? Hello? HELLO?!