Coastalblog

Been a bit quiet here of late, I know. There are reasons (not, I hasten to add, particularly bad ones, merely reasons) beyond the usual ennui, and, for once, I've decided to write about them. As for once I genuinely was being kept away by circumstance, as opposed to my own laziness  I'm normally reluctant to reflect too much on my own life and the meaning I derived from it or, God forbid, the lessons I've learned . It's the most tedious sort of solipsism,and, to my mind, requires one to think one is the centre of the known Universe. Which, thankfully, despite my manifold other faults, I don't. It's why I've never got a job as a columnist. But it is probably worth blogging about the reasons I've been quiet on here, and *spit* what I've learned from it, if only as an exercise in driving the truth into my own thick skull. I see that my last post here was the 30th of September, that tracks, because, I had  quite the October and, to my surprise (this is t...

 Look, I never claimed to be cool. As a a cliched middle aged male, I have a number of interests which, if not exactly niche, are perhaps not freighted with glamour. Not exactly ones to set the heart racing. I yearn not for wakeboarding, my cocaine with minor celebrities days are well and truly behind me, you are unlikely to catch me writing graffiti under a motorway bridge. I do cycle, but only as a way of getting from point A to point B, you are unlikely, you will be relieved to hear, to see me purchasing lycra and or/doing triathlons. I like going for a nice walk. I'm fond of a good book. I have a deep attachment to county cricket. Yes, that's right, county, not even the international stuff which briefly captures the nation's fleeting attention once in a blue moon. County cricket. Somerset CCC to be precise, though I'll watch / listen to any of it. The unpopular part of an unpopular sport. Well, that's the public perception, the much maligned two men and a dog. N...

I have bow, I think, entered the arena of Not Understanding The Kids. This is a profound relief. As a father of three, it is my role to be baffled by slang, wrong-footed by culture and perplexed by concerns. I am not supposed to understand what they're on about. It is my job to frown slightly from over the top of a newspaper and be amiably run rings round. But, until fairly recently, I was relatively on top of the whole thing, through no fault of my own. I work in a job where the average worker is quite young, I'm certainly the only one over forty, and there's only one other 30+. This, whilst undoubtedly annoying, has the effect of meaning you do keep relatively up to date, simply by failing to tune out the chatter around you. (You also get to laugh quietly to yourself as each new cohort imagines they're the first ones ever to try to phone in sick with a hangover, or the first ones to ever take drugs). I was also, until quite recently, Very Online. I do not mean Faceboo...

 There is an idea, much beloved if a certain type of politician, that you can get away with any old cobblers if you wrap it in a flag. This week, seeking to jostle his way clear of the roiling mass of mediocrity that is the Conservative Party leadership contest, it is previously fond-of-a-pie, now 24hr-Ozempic-guzzler Honest Bob Jenrick who's been trying his hand at a bit if the old racism. Bob has forn for this, of course  You will recall his performative cruelty when he ordered cartoon murals for children at migrant detention centres painted over. You will furthermore recall his most recent thought being loudly thunk that saying "Gid is Great" should, um, be a criminal offence. In case we hadn't already established this, the man's an arse. He's now making a bid for the sclerotic hearts and gin-soaked minds of what's left of the Conservative Party by claiming that "English identity is being erased", the unspoken subtext, of course, being that En...

For reasons I don't entirely understand myself, I ran ten miles this morning. Well, I say "ran", there were probably a few points were "shuffled" would be more the mot juste, but nevertheless, I put one foot in front of the other for ten sodding miles without stopping and walking. Walking would possibly have been quicker, but that, for reasons that again I don't understand, but obscurely feel to be God's honest truth, wasn't the point  And Lord, isn't my body aware of it now. Most of the left side has checked out for the day, and obscure shooting pains and spasms occur when I least expect them. I am very much favouring my right side as I type this. I should explain somewhat, this wasn't a spur of the moment decision. I didn't just get up and decide to run ten miles. I've always been a runner, of sorts, but realised earlier this year that I was deteriorating quite badly in terms of form, physique and motivation. A mile was a struggle. ...

Not to make this sound like some portentous announcement, like a celebrity couple imagining that the wider world gives a fig for their marital status, but I have consciously uncoupled from Twitter. It's been on the cards for a while. Ever since the world's strangest man, Elon Musk, bought it in what was the  Worst Banking Decision since 2008 , the entire place has been on the slide, his model of buying blue ticks and monetising clicks meaning that the most extreme, the most controversial voices were aggressively promoted, and normal discourse was largely drowned. I'd watched in dismay as my feed grew ever more right wing, obsessed with small boats and trans issues, race and gender, and it seemed that no matter how carefully I blocked and curated, more screeching, permanently enraged right wingers were placed in front of me. As a strategy for driving engagement, it's superficially clever. The instinct is to engage, to argue and refute, even the reasonable people I follow...