July 1st 2016

Today being July 1st 2016 (see calendar for confirmation) means that I have posted one blog post on this site every day for the past 18 (eighteen) months.

I mean, that’s cool. A year and a half. That’s like, two entire human gestation periods of daily blog posts.

June was the best month I’ve ever had in terms of views and data and clicks and impressions and stuff.

So it’s nice to see that not only have I been posting consistently for my own benefit (you’ll perhaps remember that the point of my ldaily blog posts is to completely document my life to look back on during the time where I have forgotten everything) but that other people seem to enjoy/want to read these daily rambles of mine.

There has rarely been a day where I haven’t wanted to post. There have been days where I haven’t known about what to write about. There have been days where my posts have been incoherent drunken 4am slurs. There have been days when my posts were 2,000 word memoirs on my experiences at a Double Michelin star restaurant, and there have been one sentence posts where I’ve almost not clicked upload.

But the consistent factor is that I always have done so. I’ve always clicked upload. Except for one time where I happened to wake up at 5am in a ski cabin in Andorra and remember that I’d turn my mobile data off, and the wifi didn’t work in the room. The post I’d written before bed had failed to upload, so I had to walk down to the reception, connect to the wifi, click upload, walk back upstairs and sleep.

You could count that as missing a day, but I don’t. And that’s the closest I’ve come.

I’m not strict with timing, because my day doesn’t end at midnight. Sometimes it doesn’t end until 3, 4 or 5am. More and more frequently, recently it’s been ending about 22:15 but that’s because my life is far less interesting than it was when I was travelling a lot last year.

But that’s part of this diary/blog/journal. I get to look back at and see at what point of my life I was at during which periods of time and yada yada. And in another 18 months, or 18 years, I’ll be able to look back and remember.

Until tomorrow, I’d better make it a life worth reading about.


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