When I started this incarnation of Wrinkled Weasel I deliberately went a bit anti SEO (search engine optimization). I wanted something stripped down and easy to read on little phones. I hope that is the case. However, I still find that the old blog still gets more hits than this one. That is partly to do with the number of posts and topics and also to do with things like photos and videos and music.
People do read this, but not many. I wonder if I should worry? I suppose my main concern is the amount of time and effort I put into the posts. (Yes, it doesn't always show, does it?) Having said that, I discern that the readers, the regular readers, are probably the kind of people I would like to meet in real life - not just those who are searching for nude photos of Lady Diana. (There goes the SEO!)
This year for me and mine is, or should be, something of a watershed, a point of self-actualisation. I have finally acknowledged to myself that this is where I live (Scotland) and this is where I expect to die. In a few weeks I shall be moving to what I also expect will be "my final resting place" as I call it; a small hamlet in the Scottish Borders.
I mention this because I see in myself, and some of my friends, a tacit acceptance of the way that this road along which I travel is running out. This is not to be maudlin or to capitulate. Not at all. I actually feel rather free now that the ordinary things of life; having a family, where you live, what you do, have all mostly been sorted out.
I can wake up in the morning and say to myself, "what shall I do today?" And that, dear reader, is possibly an even greater challenge than what has gone before.
As Sophocles said: "A man growing old is like a child again". How very true
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