Drowning, Not Waving

Two-One-Nine-Oh. 

All in a row. No gaps. No massaging the figures with backblips the way NeueBlip does. It may mean hee-haw under today's polaroid enhanced hues, but I know what it's taken to get here.

Hez asked me if I was waving goodbye when she was helping me set this up. To be honest, the past year I've thought of it more and more. Even tried out a couple of other sites along similar lines. But, it still has its hooks in me, even if it does sometimes feel as painful as that scene with the hooks and Richard Harris in A Man Called Horse. 

There are still some on here that inspire with their photos. Or their words. Increasingly rarely, even both. I'll plod along in the optimistic hope that the  characterless and invisible sorts that are in charge realise there's nothing else out there like this and start doing the right things again. Or, I'll learn to play "Nearer, My God, to Thee" on the ukulele in preparation for when it all goes arse up.

The traditional thanks to the blip boffins doesn't seem to sit in with these blip birthdays as easily as they once did, but to all the visitors, subscribers and commentators that have kept up the faith the appreciation is still there. You all deserve better than my half-hearted and erratic contributions on the commenting front, but it is what it is. Holidays and (hopefully) a wee bit more time to while away the long summer days might see me getting back into that, but we'll see.

Thanks all.

PS: I miss Spotlight.