Since I started this Blog last July, a few readers have expressed pleasure in its style. This has been truly encouraging but it takes me back to why I started. It was a family need which triggered it. I saw the Blog, as I said somewhere, as a message in a bottle, drifting on the airwaves until it found its recipient, now long unseen. Its impetus was the subject of memory – or, more precisely, False Memory – but as I began to look back on the history of my family I have increasingly found myself dwelling on my impressions of nearly 50 years of family life.
What are the threads? A shared love of nature, of England and especially for me, the high-hedged, sea-glimpsing lanes of Devon, something we all shared and which I hope, should these tiny messages ever reach shore, will bring with them a flood of factual recall – the salty harbour detritus as the Teignmouth Ferry pulled out from the shallows, for example. Then there is my former job: a working life as an agency journalist based mainly at the Palace of Westminster. And there is our shared religion. It has not brought harmony but I hope its precepts will one day do so, and with it bring renewal.
So there is a rather confused purpose in the Blog but I shall go on. All the themes I mention here will appear, in no particular order, as I continue, with it, probably sporadically. I’m an old man looking back. Each old person’s situation is unique. Being old is definitely not. Perhaps some of my thoughts will echo in the minds of other old people. The journey is endless but there will be nostalgic stopping points along the way – not least the Devon lanes, their honeysuckle and primroses, and the ancient Church where my parents’ ashes rest. Also the courtyards of the Palace of Westminster.
I do not intend to reflect a family idyll. There were rows. We are human. If I go on with the Blog there will probably be gritty, grating postings as I switch to one or another tangent, not least the politics and mores of today. I’m finding my way.