I’m back!! Oh, little blog, I’ve missed you. Did you miss me? Like a lot of relationship breakdowns, I never really intended things to get so distant between us. Stuff happened, as stuff always does – a holiday, a course of early swim sessions, the need to spend tube journeys after swimming in doing my makeup and putting on jewellery rather than blogging.
And of course, there was the freedom! Like many people who’ve been in a long-term relationship and have got through those first thrilling and intoxicated months to a more quotidian domesticity, the effort required to keep going suddenly seemed to outweigh the rewards. How charming to spend my mornings reading others’ writing in The Guardian rather than laboriously pecking at an uncooperative WordPress app on a sticky old Android! How exciting to engage in instant keyboard-to-keyboard conflict with real people on Facebook instead of clambering deep into my own subconscious via the act of writing for a conversation with myself which might or might not yield anything which made any sense at all. How delightful not to have to work at it!
And yet. And yet. There were the days when you stubbornly refused to engage with me, yes, when writing a morning post felt like swimming through treacle. There were the posts which flopped out and slumped lifelessly for all my best efforts to breathe life into them. But there were also the times, so many times, when we were GREAT together! Days spent with friends, on holiday, swimming, or just watching tv. The times we laughed ourselves sick over nothing. Long involved passionate debates on everything from politics to cycling. And those “No-one exists but the two of us” conversations that lasted for weeks and deepened understanding with every post.
I miss those times. I just can’t have those conversations, or those laughs, on my own. And it turns out they were worth the times when your predictive text annoyingly pretended that you’d never heard of the word “domesticity” (or “predictive”, apparently, come to that). Facebook became less satisfying. No matter how many times I told people that they were wrong, they’d still be irritatingly wrong again the next day. I started to fear that if I left it any longer, we’d actually drift so far apart that you’d become one of those “Whatever happened to old So-and-so” past acquaintances, those of whom one says “Haven’t heard from him in years. I wonder why? Funny, we used to be quite close.”
And above all I missed – you. The space you afforded me. The opportunity, over weeks and months, to explore ideas, to develop my thinking on a subject by writing about it. The access you gave me to myself. The simple act of writing, of getting words from my head onto a page (or, in your case, a screen), and the weird inexplicable alchemy that happens so that I find myself writing things which I personally would never be able to write, things which seem to have been written by the much better writer who lives inside my head but who won’t talk directly to me, only to you. And so….. I’m back! I missed you. Did you miss me?
PS. I had no intention of writing this post this morning. I was going to finally write a post, yes, but it was going to be a continuation of “Intermission – The Bechdel Wallace Test (As Reimagined By Me)”, which I last wrote in April before the Guildford 2Swim4Life. But as soon as I opened the WordPress app, my subconscious upped and bipped me on the head with this. So, thank you, subconscious. Point taken.
PPS. If you can’t remember anything about The Bechdel Wallace Test (As Reimagined By Me, and god knows I can’t, the last post is here.
More, at long last, tomorrow.