Recursive Words

Onwards

January 12, 2026

After spending a night in a hotel near Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris last night, my eldest daughter boarded a plane to Amsterdam first thing this morning, then finally boarded a hopefully more reliable Boeing 787 to Osaka mid-afternoon. I say hopefully, because this one was only two hours late, instead of cancelled entirely.

What is it with Boeing aircraft over the last twenty years?

Anyway. She’s on her way. At the time of writing, she’s hurtling overhead Kazakhstan very quickly indeed. During the early hours of the morning she will arrive in Kansai, then make her way to Osaka, then board a train to Kyoto, then a taxi to her hotel.

It’s a hell of a journey, isn’t it.

Back on this side of the world I’ve been churning through chores and errands as best I can – jumping between three projects at work, washing clothes, tidying up behind everybody, and offering cups of coffee to gas engineers while they ponder on why our central heating is still not behaving itself. There were murmurs about heat exchangers, and replacing of water pumps, and plans made to return later in the week.

I did warn them I might be sitting in the corridor of a maternity ward by then.

Work today went really well. I can’t share what I was up to, but it was interesting. A different project. A break of sorts. An interesting requirement, and a chance to invent for a change.

I’m not sure if I mentioned it on the blog, but I ordered a new keyboard last week. A “retro” keyboard – designed to look like a Commodore 64, but more importantly with mechanical, “clacky” keys. Oh my word can I type fast on it. It brings back memories of the keyboards computers had thirty years ago. Now I need to choose a suitably retro word processor to use with it.

There’s a huge temptation to put a pre-order in on the “new” Commodore 64. I don’t need it, and I don’t even have time to play with it, but it would be fun.

Oh crikey… somehow it’s nearly 11pm already. How do I keep managing to do this?
Chaotic

January 12, 2026

While emptying my head into the shiny new bullet journal a few minutes ago, it struck me that I haven’t written in the blog today – and I really should, because I would scarcely believe the chaos and mayhem currently surrounding me in years to come unless I write it down.

My youngest daughter still hasn’t had the baby. Her body hasn’t shouted “all systems go” just yet. It wasn’t due for another few days anyway – but we all feel we’re on borrowed time, and wonder if we’ll make it another day, every day.

The waiting game coincides with my other half travelling across the country with work tomorrow – so sods law will of course dictate that the baby will make its appearance while she’s away, and she’ll miss everything.

Tomorrow a heating engineer will also call to look at our recalcitrant heating system, which refuses to warm the house to anything like the temperature it should be.

I’ll also need to hand over work things to a co-worker that I should have on Friday – to continue in my stead while I work on another project for a few days.

On top of all of that, our eldest daughter was supposed to be landing in Osaka, Japan tomorrow morning – but that’s gone out of the window after the Boeing 787 she was supposed to be boarding in Paris refused to cooperate. She’s stuck in a hotel overnight, and will return to the airport first thing tomorrow morning to hopefully fly from Paris to Amsterdam, and then from Amsterdam to Osaka.

We felt SO sorry for her this evening. It’s her first holiday without us – a dream trip to Japan – a bucket list destination – and Air France have not only taken a day of that holiday from her, but also put her stress through the roof (she has suffered with anxiety for years).

We’re also waiting on a quote for the roof and gutters to get cleaned, re-lined, and repaired. And to confirm a quote to rip out the downstairs bathroom, which saw better days twenty years ago.

There’s always something – or if this week is a guide – there’s always twenty things.
In Limbo

January 10, 2026

I’m not sure I’ve really written about something rather siesmic that’s going on in our family at the moment. I’m about to become a grandfather. My youngest daughter is very, very pregnant. We’re talking days or hours away from “all systems go”.

We wondered if we would make it to the end of Friday without a panicked race towards the hospital, or if Saturday or Sunday might look more likely. Given that a certain somebody’s body has progressed no further in turning life as she knows it upside down, we’re still all still here – counting the hours – not sleeping properly – and wondering when – not if.

As long as we get to through the next few days with everybody safe and well, I really don’t mind how we get there, or how long things take.

I had to share our current situation at work this week – given that I might have to vanish at a moment’s notice. Some of my co-workers have already started calling me Grandad.

A good friend asked last night what I will be known as – Grandad, Gramps, Grandpa? I really don’t mind. Whatever I get called, I have enormous boots to fill. My grandparents still loom large in my core memories. As a child, I never tired of listening to their stories, or helping them with errands, chores, or just tagging along with whatever they were doing.

I remember playing chess on the floor at christmas-time against Grandad Beckett – a tall, quiet yorkshireman. I’ll never forget his mantra – “Hear all, see all, do all, and say nowt”. He taught me about saving money, and the importance of eating brussel sprouts.

I also remember spending hours in the shed at my other Grandad’s – Grandad Hall – making endless swords and battleships out of wooden offcuts, and learning songs from him that I wasn’t allowed to sing at home. One of the songs was a variation on “Old King Cole” that ended with him falling into an outside toilet pit.

“The sun shone on the toilet door, the old king had a fit. Old King Cole fell down the hole, and he was covered in… sweet violets”. Oh, how we laughed.

So yes – I’m becoming a grandad at some point over the next few days. I’m not quite sure how I feel about that. While washing up earlier, I thought about it – and realised that at least my grandchildren will get to know me. When I see people having children later in life, I wonder if their children miss out by perhaps not knowing their grandparents for as long as they might during their formative years.

I’m pretty sure I’ll be the first in my generation in our family to become a grandparent. That feels very odd.
The Grindstone

January 5, 2026

I returned to work today – or rather, I turned through ninety degrees within the junk-room, plugged my work laptop back in, and grimaced while clicking the Outlook and Teams icons.

Only they didn’t work.

At some point over Christmas, my digital overlords had decided I was no longer welcome. For a few moments I wondered if I had been summarily ejected from my employer – and that the letter, or phone call had not happened.

In the spirit of all things that pull the rug from beneath you, just after posting an email from my personal email account to the company support department, Outlook and Teams suddenly burst into life.

I will also admit that the prospect of not being able to login – essentially being cut off from the matix – didn’t cause me to panic at all. I unexpectedly felt a wave of excitement – that I could go make a coffee and not be in a rush to do anything at all – because there was nothing I could do about it.

The universe obviously recognised that I was having quite the wrong reaction, and fixed itself – rather than let me have any sort of a reprieve from clearing a week’s worth of emails and teams conversations.

After those first few minutes, everything unfolded remarkably calmly.

Here’s where I admit that I burned the midnight oil over Christmas creating a secondary blog. A professional blog, full of pretend cleverness and wisdom. A blog that could probably be used as a narcolepsy weapon of sorts – to cause entire armies to fall asleep with just the mention of it’s name, let alone it’s contents.

The reason for the existence of the second “professional” blog is perhaps even more amusing than it’s contents. I built it to figure out how to use the tooling to build it – ending up with a blog was a side-effect (a bit like the guy that was trying to make something else when he accidentally created teflon – it’s a good story – look it up).

The funny thing? After creating the blog, I thought I better check with higher powers than myself that sharing technical knowledge, wisdom, and experience is actually allowed. Thankfully it is. Huge sigh of relief, given that the blog had been sitting there for several days already.

So. There we are. That’s what I’ve been up to today. Oh – and walking all over town looking for a new bullet journal after Amazon sent the wrong ones through. Tomorrow lunchtime I have to walk back across town to deposit the wrong notebooks at the post office to wing their way back whence they came – which will no doubt coincide with the arrival of the new ones while I’m out.

Let’s hope my daughters answer the door.

At least I had the presence of mind this morning to tell my co-workers that I might have to leave in a hurry at some point this week, given the very, very pregnant state of my daughter.

My other half has to travel with work one day next week. I’m laying bets the universe will crack open it’s bag of throwing spanners, and line them up, ready to start flinging them.
Frozen Pipes and Bullet Journals

January 5, 2026

The universe sometimes exhibits a wonderful sense of humor. The night before last the temperature dropped to well below zero (celcius, for my American friends). Well below freezing point. So of course the central heating in our house chose to stop working.

By mid-morning a heating engineer had paid us a visit, and found the cause. The drain pipe from the boiler had frozen at the point it exits the house. This in turn caused condensation forming within the boiler to back up into the boiler instead of making it’s way out of the house – which resulted in it slowly filling with water and putting it’s own flame out.

The solution? Wait.

Leave the heating on continuous, and keep trying to re-light the boiler until it was dry enough to start working again – which it eventually did at about 5pm.

In other news, Amazon delivered two sets of Bullet Journals in recent days. They sent them twice because they sent the wrong books once, and then sent the wrong books again. The first time I thought it was a typical warehouse mistake, raised a return, and re-ordered. The second time I filled out the return form, and left a comment about perhaps checking their stock codes.

At least the man in the post office made the process of returning things to Amazon straightforward.

After leaving the post office I wandered into town, and went bullet journal shopping – picking up two newly re-branded books from “T J Jones” – who I will call “W H Smiths” until the end of time – one for me, and one for my other half.

While wandering home, I pondered on the whole circular productivity nightmare – and the endless drive to do more in less time – to balance more, to manage more, to achieve more. More, more, more. I guess going back to a paper planner is a reaction of sorts to that.

I’ve never really thought of bullet journals as “planners” though – they’re more mindfulness machines. The act of writing things down tends to anchor it somehow. Typing doesn’t achieve the same thing at all. I’ve no idea why.

Anyway.

It’s getting late, and I should probably go collapse into bed. I can’t believe it’s Wednesday already.
Recovery

January 4, 2026

After falling asleep at about 11pm last night I woke at 3am and discovered my other half had been to bed at some point, and then gone downstairs. I also figured out I was partially deaf, and had perhaps the driest mouth in the known universe. Snoring. I must have been snoring.

I pulled my clothes on, and quietly made my way downstairs in the dark – almost scaring myself in the hallway mirror en-route – I looked a proper mess.

My other half went up to bed, and I sat up for a couple of hours before taking her place on the sofa, wrapped in huge fleece blankets, and falling fast asleep. What I didn’t count on was waking up again at perhaps 4am with my entire body shivering.

The first thought that went through my head? Covid. Been here before. Got the t-shirt.

I made myself a hot drink, grabbed another blanket, tucked myself in even more tightly, and slept through until one of my daughters started crashing around in the kitchen. My other half appeared downstairs a little later, and I told her about my covid suspicions.

The miraculous thing? After a shower, a shave, and putting some warm clothes on, my body appeared to have re-booted itself.

The rest of today has been spent putting Christmas decorations away, and washing the windows at the back of the house. I still have a couple of trips up to the attic to complete, but most of it is already done.

I’m also waiting on a number of deliveries from Amazon. The replacement keyboard and mouse I wrote about recently. And a bullet journal. And a book.

While in the bookshop in town recently I spotted a book called “The Full Moon Coffee Shop” – about a little coffee shop run by cats where people’s troubles are shared and somehow solved. I haven’t read it yet (obviously), but I’ll let you know when I do.

Oh – a new camera should be turning up too. I bought a small point-and-shoot camera for the family to use – my eldest daughter will be using it first during her trip to Kyoto in a couple of weeks time. The reason for having a small camera, and not using a smart phone? Battery life.

The more we rely on phones to do things – especially while away – the more we end up protecting their battery life during the day – and the more reason to not touch the phone if you don’t have to. It’s especially true while travelling – where your phone spends all day looking for networks and flattens itself in the process.

The little camera runs on AA batteries, and has a physical zoom lens – which mobile phones never do. Should be useful.

Right.

I better go take these last few boxes up to the attic.

Back to work tomorrow.
The Lurgy

January 3, 2026

After making it all the way through Christmas and New Year without catching any of the various coughs and colds that were doing the rounds, I suddenly sneezed this afternoon. I sneezed, and then my nose completely blocked. I thought “oh here we go”.

It’s amusing really, isn’t it. I make it all the way through the holidays, then the weekend before I go back to work my body asks “what shape spanner shall we choose, and where shall we throw it?”

Don’t get me started about the weather either. It’s fairly obvious that if the world IS governed and run by a mysterious creator of some sort, then they have a tremendously dark sense of humor. You may recall I wrote recently about a friend inviting me to go running with them? I would have gone for a run yesterday – except I woke to a world covered in black ice and frost. Given I tend to appreciate my legs bending in the right places, and my feet pointing in the right direction, I thought it best not to tempt fate.

Then of course today the lurgy landed.

Anyway.

You find me – right now – sitting in bed with the MacBook perched on my legs. I’ve managed to write every day of the year so far – which sounds more impressibe than it is. This will be day three. I gather “Gen Z” would call this a “streak”. I thought a streak was when you took your clothes off and ran onto a sports field in front of the watching crowd? Being half serious though, I am wondering if I can find something to write about every day – at least for a little while.

There’s the thought that if you just write – with no clear plan, or aim – then something wonderful might leave my fingers, go through the keyboard, and appear on the screen. I know the chances are very low indeed, but they’re not impossible. That’s enough for me.

I should probably go try and sleep.

Wish my body luck in it’s fight against whatever it is that’s coursing through it this evening. I’ll help fuel it tomorrow with a world of combative junk – until then, sleeping instead of scrolling is probably a pretty good plan.
Breakfast Bookshops and Stranger Things

January 2, 2026

After clearing the decks at chore-city this morning I walked (very slowly) into town with my middle daughter. She’s on crutches at the moment – recovering from anterior cruciate ligament surgery – a repair on an injury sustained in a rugby match about 18 months ago. It’s probably going to take a year to recover fully, but at least she’s up and about.

The reason for our journey was to drop leftover painkillers at the pharmacy. Given they were hugely powerful post-surgery drugs, apparently they are best disposed of by the authorities, rather than ending up in land-fill and being scavenged by drug users.

We continued on into town – about a mile walk – and had a late breakfast at the huge pub where she normally works. One of the managers came by to say hello, which lifted her spirits enormously. She’s been going a bit stir-crazy at home, so getting out into the world for the first time in weeks was kind of huge really.

Afterwards we wandered over to the book-shop and I very nearly bought a copy of “The Full Moon Coffee Shop” by Mai Mochizuki. Rather than buy any more, I’m trying to just write down the names of books that look interesting in a list, and I’ll re-visit it when I’ve caught up (like that’s ever going to happen).

While out I did pick up a calendar re-fill for my old paper filofax. I know it’s a bit of a throw-back, but I still tend to double-up whatever is in Google into a paper filofax on the corner of my desk. It never goes wrong, and it doesn’t require any batteries.

When we got home I put the order in for a new bullet journal – it should arrive on Sunday. Rather than live ALL of my life in the computer, I’m returning to using a bullet journal this year. I used them for years before switching over to modern toys like Obsidian, Bear, or Notion – and have missed them ever since. The book by Ryder Carroll about how the idea of the “bullet journal” came about is a fascinating read, if you’ve not read it. A lot more thought went into it than you might expect.

I might have also ordered a retro keyboard and mouse that I’ve been looking at for months this afternoon. I’ve gone through so many keyboards in recent years it’s getting a bit ridiculous. I usually buy the cheapest standard-shape keyboards from Logitech, but after having two in a row exhibit the same problems with bouncing keys, I foolishly walked into PC World a few months back and bought an HP keyboard – which looks nice, but is strangely horrible to type on. The retro keyboard that will arrive on Sunday is much more like the kind of keyboard you might have seen twenty or thirty years ago – with clacky keys, and more shape to it. I don’t get the obsession with flat keyboards.

Anyway.

Just wanted to empty a few thoughts out of my head about “Stranger Things”. I finally made it through the last few episodes last night. Am I really alone in thinking that it kind of “jumped the shark” at some point in season 5? What started several years ago as a goonies type adventure into the paranormal with a group of children, somehow pivoted in the final episodes to the chief of police machine-gunning a room full of mercenary soldiers in cold blood? And the final plot point (which I won’t ruin) was massively contrived.

The only good thing that came out of Season 5 was Mrs Wheeler – who turned into a complete and utter bad-ass while defending her youngest daughter from one of the monsters in (I think) the first episode.

Onwards and upwards. Fallout season 2 has arrived on Amazon. I wonder if myself and my other half can binge-watch it over the weekend?
Reconnecting

January 1, 2026

Well, here we are again. Another January 1st has rolled around, and with it, that familiar hum of “new year, new me.” This is where many people launch into grand declarations about resolutions, goals, and all the exciting things they are going to do this year. Not me. This year feels… different.

Instead of looking outward, I’ve been feeling a strong inward pull in recent months. A desire to strip away the noise – to quiet the constant hum. My revelation – or resolution – isn’t really very big or clever – it’s just an acceptance that I need to go off-grid – or at least, step away from the loudest parts of the grid.

The pressure to constantly share, curate, and perform becomes exhausting. Don’t get me wrong – I love connecting with people – but that’s where this all gets a bit paradoxical. The closest friendships of my life have been forged online – through blogging, or social networks. The people I have crossed paths with have taught me so much – inspired me – and kept me going on days when the world hasn’t been the friendliest of places.

It doesn’t help that every time I go anywhere near a social network, I’m immediately annoyed by the continual attempts by so many to be the funniest person in the room – to have a hot take on anything and everything. Everybody seems to want to take sides about everything and anything. It’s exhausting.

So… I’m building my own little digital cabin in the woods. This blog is going to be my sanctuary. My place to write, to explore, to be. No algorithms, and no endless scrolling – just words – from me to you – whenever you or they decide to show up.

I’m not entirely sure what this experiment will bring. It might be lonely at times. I might miss the instant feedback, the casual banter – but I also know that the very best things I’ve written have emerged from the dark silence of late night introspection – not from the continuous and cacophonous roar of the social internet firehose.

So, if you’re reading this, thank you for finding me in my new little digital hideaway. I hope you’ll stick around. I’ve got a feeling this is going to be an interesting year.
Far from the Madding Crowd

December 31, 2025

As the final hours of 2025 ebbed away, I sat on the sofa with a laptop, quietly lifting 22 years worth of blog posts into the air – to land them far from the madding crowd.

After a rather horrendous run through the end of the year – more of a stagger than a run if I’m honest – I came very close to ending the blog entirely. Not by choice, either.

I do want to shout out those that reached out to me during the darkest recent days. It meant far more than you’ll ever know.

Anyway…

The sun rises tomorrow on a new year! I’m not going to spout any ridiculous resolutions, or goals. I’m just going to try and get through the coming year in one piece.

Fingers crossed.
Boxing Day

December 26, 2025

After falling off the internet in recent days, I reached out to a few friends around the world this morning – wishing them a happy “Boxing Day”, and none of them outside the UK had a clue what I was referring to.

In the UK, the day after Christmas Day is “Boxing Day”. I just looked it up – because I had no idea of its origins either. The most popular theory is rooted in the Victorian era. In those days, domestic servants were required to work on Christmas Day to serve their employers’ grand feasts. As a “thank you,” they were given December 26th off to visit their own families. Before they left, their masters would give them a “Christmas Box” – a wooden box containing gifts, bonuses, and sometimes leftover food from the Christmas dinner.

There you go.

Anyway.

You find me sitting in the lounge listening to Vinyl records on my own. My other half has taken our post-surgery middle-daughter to visit her Mum. I’ve spent much of the morning taking the opportunity to clear the decks – washing up (again), throwing packaging away, discovering clothes stuffed behind bathroom doors, and re-uniting them with the washing machine.

Sabrina Carpenter’s “Man’s Best Friend” album is spinning around on the turntable, filling the lounge with music while our aged ginger cat sits in the patio door atop a blank-box, looking out over the garden. He’s become such a home-body. Our other cat – Kaspar – is out in the garden somewhere, ruining Christmas for a family of mice no doubt.

From time to time our youngest daughter appears – waddling from room to room in her heavily pregnant state. We’re counting down the days now. She seems to be sailing through the whole pregnancy journey – let’s keep our fingers crossed the remainder of the journey is equally uneventful.

After falling into bed at stupid o’clock last night, I didn’t wake up until 9am this morning – unheard of for me. I wandered downstairs, had a shower, then made bacon sandwiches for myself and my eldest daughter. It’s almost miraculous – how the smell of bacon can summon her like a demon from the underworld.

Sabrina has finished singing about her boyfriend(s) now – I’ve changed the record over to a guilty pleasure – Jean Michel Jarre’s “Oxygene”.

George – our many storied cat – is listening to it with me. Or at least, I think he is. He’s sitting across from me, curled up in a ball. I think he’s quite enjoying the peace and quiet while everybody else is out too. His full name should be “George of the 27 lives”. He used to have two brothers – both of which died young – we think he inherited their lives, given the scrapes he has survived so far.

I should probably get on with something. There must be a rubbish movie on or something. Maybe I’ll go read some blogs – try to catch up. I’ve been off grid for so long, it’s kind of difficult to find my way back.
Christmas Day

December 25, 2025

Somehow we’ve made it through Christmas in one piece.

We all congregated in the lounge by mid-morning. There had been strict instructions to cap the budget at a sensible amount per person this year – because we all work now (well… all except our youngest daughter, who is heavily pregnant) – so none of us really need anything. The kids have slowly realised the idiocy of buying people “things” they don’t particularly want or need – so there were lots of aftershave, bubblebath, socks, chocolate, and whatever else.

Of course the unborn baby received more presents than the rest of us put together. Let’s just say it’s not going to need anything of consequence bought for the first several months of it’s life.
Lunch was something of a success. After spending much of the morning feeding the cooker with trays of potatoes, sprouts, carrots, and whatever else, we all sat down and ate enough for a small army. Somehow I don’t think we’ll be eating anything later today.

After spending much of the day together eating, drinking, and playing various board games, we have now disbanded. You find me holed up in the study – listening to music, catching up on email, and writing this blog post. Other half and middle daughter are watching Indiana Jones, youngest and her boyfriend have passed out upstairs. Eldest is sitting on top of her pile of presents like Smaug the dragon in her room.

Seeing as I didn’t actually need anything for Christmas, I asked my daughters for chocolate for Christmas – and oh boy did they deliver. I have enough to cause a major heart problem by Boxing Day (don’t worry – I won’t be touching any of it, any time soon).

You know that thing where you stockpile all the rich food for Christmas, and then within hours of unleashing it, you’re sick of it? That. The remains of Christmas dinner will no doubt end up in a frying pan tomorrow morning for “Bubble and Squeak”. I gather Bubble and Squeak might be a very British thing, so I should probably explain. Throw all the leftover veggies in a frying pan the next day, crack an egg over it, and fry it into a big fat pancake of sorts. Add ketchup, and it’s the BEST.

My other half bought me a Commodore 64 t-shirt. I think this is reason enough for me to go and order a shiny new Commodore 64 from the newly resurrected Commodore, isn’t it? I know… I don’t actually need a new computer, but hell – a NEW Commodore 64 would be a thing of beauty, wouldn’t it?

For anybody wondering what on earth I’m blathering on about, the Commodore 64 was a popular home computer in the early to mid 1980s. I didn’t have one. To be honest, I would sell my left arm for a Commodore Amiga, but they are as rare as hens teeth theses days (at least for a sensible price) – not least because technology of that era actively tries to kill itself. Capacitors leak onto the motherboards, and destroy them beyond repair.

A new C64 though. That would be quite wonderful.

Somebody talk me out of it before I end up putting the order in tomorrow morning. This is the reason I have the YouTube channel, isn’t it – so I can re-live my youth through retro hardware that I don’t have time to play with…

In other news, we snuck out for a drink with good friends yesterday evening before dinner. I got talking to one of them about her taking part in park run, and agreed that it would be a damn good idea if we went running together – for no other reason than to keep each other honest. Neither of us are competitive – but without at least SOME reason to get up and head out the door, you just know that one day you won’t bother, and that will lead to another day, and we know where that ends – 2 years since you last ran any distance at all.

I miss running. And yes, I know I’ve mentioned getting back at it several times.

It’s about putting myself first at least 1% of the time, isn’t it.

Anyway.

Merry Christmas all. Let’s hope for peace, quiet, and as few family arguments as possible over the next little while.