Hello. It's been a while. In fact it was only a message on Facebook from my good friend Danny that actually made me sit up and say "Wow, you've not posted any crap for almost a whole year!" Hence the blog title.
So why? Why, Ed, why? Here's why.
1: There hasn't been anyone asking "Why haven't you blogged for almost a year?"
This is really selfish and not a little egotistical. When I started writing blogs about 10 years ago I did it because it was essentially an online diary to myself. It was back on MySpace, and in time I ended up with a regular readership of a couple of handsful of people who didn't seem to mind me complaining about work, talking about going for a dump, or trying to set the world to rights. But I enjoyed the limited attention. When I moved to blogging here, it was because MySpace was shit, and linking it to Facebook was better. It seemed easier to have a rant there that became a conversation than to rant and wait for replies to a blog.
2: No one has really pissed me off in the last 12 months.
One of the reasons I blog is as a distraction. It takes my mind off my worries, and is easily done drunk or sober - albeit edited sober. During quite a lot of the time I've been a blogger the world has been a personally shit place because of the threat of redundancy and other daily binds. I've simply not had that sort of bullshit hovering over me for a year or more. I like the people I work for and with, and I have great people around me. Life isn't perfect, but it doesn't have the worrying overtones of doom and fear it has had before. For that I'm grateful, and less likely to be distracted.
3: The world isn't really any shitter than it was a year ago.
I think I've reached the age now where the media just doesn't impact on me. I don't give a shit about "ISIS" because they're just another Taliban. I don't give a shit about Royal babies because some people are lucky enough to have babies every day. Yay them. I'm not the slightest bit bothered about UK politics because I genuinely can't tell the difference between Labour, Liberal, and Conservative. America seems to be sorting itself out. The Middle East is still the Middle East, with Israel still the most incredibly stubborn and cruel faction operating there (which makes me anti-Semitic despite my issue being political not religious) and people still haven't figured out that Iraq isn't really a nation.
4: I haven't had a really good poo lately.
The only really momentous occasion on the fecal front was when Mark Goulding introduced me (by phone, urgently) to the concept of "The Banksy". This is a poo that slides out, leaves an impression on the porcelain, and then disappears. That was singularly the best expression of a poo type I had heard in a long time. Other than that, I can't think of any reason to bring poo up. No, not like that. I've not been eating poo.
5: No desire to complain.
I have it pretty good, don't I? I have great family and friends, I love my job, and I don't have a serious illness or any immediate sign that my old mental health issues are rearing their ugly heads again. I could go into great and extended detail about the troubles experienced in the last 11 months and more, but you know what? It's all come good. But then that's the trouble with me: I'm half optimist and half pessimist. It makes the status of a metaphorical glass very difficult to decide.
On the one hand I try top be positive about everything, but on the other hand I spend time judging worst case scenarios. It's no bad thing. When the woman you love announces she has cancer, worst case scenarios - carefully considered - make you think "Let her be the blogger" and you find yourself reading her heartfelt outpourings and hugging her tight at the end of it. When you find yourself wondering what the future may hold, it's become easier to actually deal with what the future may hold than to write a blog that suddenly just doesn't seem that important, even though once it was a great way to vent frustration and find an aside to the daily grind.
All that said, it's something I've always enjoyed doing. I might even keep doing it. Not annually though. Maybe just when a cowpat looks like David Cameron, or I think about what it would be like to wake up mid-air, clutching a tiger wearing a parachute. That was a recent dream.
I've never really bitten a tiger. But I would, if I needed a parachute.