The end.
A part of me died last Sunday.
The part of me that died held within it the only remaining impetus for continuing to write this blog.
The part of me that died was the part that against everything else, against my cynicism and occasional descents into outright misanthropy, convinced the rest of me that on the whole, most people, in this country at least, are decent, upfront and kind. The part that convinced me so many years ago it wasn't that the readers of tabloids shared the views of the owners, the editors, the columnists, it was they just wanted something quick and simple to read in the mornings. The part that even after the vote to leave the EU, after the Conservative victory of last year, felt this was an aberration, a howl of protest, rather than something more organised, more spiteful, more nasty, a true reflection of where it is we're heading.
You could call it my naivety. My stupidity. My belief that it was possible to make things right even if in the most oblique of ways.
I'd like to thank all of you for reading. Special thanks must go to Sunny Hundal and Tim Ireland, both of whom saw something in my writing that prompted them to host it elsewhere and give it a larger audience. Thanks also to Flying Rodent, John Band, Left Outside, tychy and anyone else I've forgotten who more recently has sung my praises and linked to my posts on Twitter.
It's been quite the 11 years. We've had some good times, bad times, awful times, fun times. But it's time to go. The blog will stay online, at least for the moment. How long it does, or if I pull the plug on septicisle.info as a whole remains to be seen.
Take care everyone.
The part of me that died held within it the only remaining impetus for continuing to write this blog.
The part of me that died was the part that against everything else, against my cynicism and occasional descents into outright misanthropy, convinced the rest of me that on the whole, most people, in this country at least, are decent, upfront and kind. The part that convinced me so many years ago it wasn't that the readers of tabloids shared the views of the owners, the editors, the columnists, it was they just wanted something quick and simple to read in the mornings. The part that even after the vote to leave the EU, after the Conservative victory of last year, felt this was an aberration, a howl of protest, rather than something more organised, more spiteful, more nasty, a true reflection of where it is we're heading.
You could call it my naivety. My stupidity. My belief that it was possible to make things right even if in the most oblique of ways.
I'd like to thank all of you for reading. Special thanks must go to Sunny Hundal and Tim Ireland, both of whom saw something in my writing that prompted them to host it elsewhere and give it a larger audience. Thanks also to Flying Rodent, John Band, Left Outside, tychy and anyone else I've forgotten who more recently has sung my praises and linked to my posts on Twitter.
It's been quite the 11 years. We've had some good times, bad times, awful times, fun times. But it's time to go. The blog will stay online, at least for the moment. How long it does, or if I pull the plug on septicisle.info as a whole remains to be seen.
Take care everyone.
Labels: the end
