900 not out

Keeping a diary, or journaling (as we refer to it post-puberty), can feel like the territory of pimply, hormonal teenagers crazed with fantasies about their first crush or grappling with their own quest for self-identity. But many people outside of this demographic do it and blogging allows lots of us to pollute the atmosphere with our random thoughts and, yes, geriatric fantasies. The beauty of keeping a journal is that there’s no right or wrong way to do it. I only write because I enjoy writing and it's a good way of marshalling my thoughts. Quite often I surprise myself. Where did that come from? I haven't thought about that for years... Having an audience, albeit limited, is a bonus but is never the reason to keep tapping the keys. Nine hundred posts under my belt and it looks like we'll make the millennial entry sometime in 2018.

Why celebrate 900? For some reason, I get every 150 posts turned into a bound collection in the hope, possibly false, that one day down the line one of my antecedents will wonder what the old man  (and the much younger Mrs P) got up to.