Over two years...

What does that page counter mean?

There's a page view counter. There. To the right. Maybe down a bit (depends on the size of your monitor). I have to scroll down quite a long way. I don't have monitor envy, though. I like lightweight, small and cheap netbooks. They suit my idea of computing in the twenty-first century. Sunglasses and a big watch, soon that'll be all you need. The widescreen telly dominating every room will remotely connect to the watch. Honest.

I've managed the (almost) discipline of a daily page of A4 for 790 posts now.

I'm naturally a honer...honer...behave. I write. I read back. I re-write. I re-read. Somehow, half the words disappear, all the content remains. Better write some more, then read then re-write...so it goes.

Things started when the realisation hit home that Kiz and MM were absolutely independent individuals.

It isn't up to you to say how close, how bonded, you are to your kids. That's for them to decide. The only people to determine your performance as a parent, the only real arbiters of how good or bad a job you've done, are your kids.

Anyway. The original idea was to maintain some sort of contact with Kiz and MM, to reassure them that:

 I. BLISS remains blissfully herself:
 A. Blissfully insane.
 B. Absolutely impossible.
 C. Kinda amazing, and:
 D. Did I mention absolutely mad?

 II. The (mad)-house they grew up in is still standing.

 III. Although stuff is failing with age, I retain the ability to type (if inaccurately and incoherently).

Now, the how, the why and those other tools Kipling loved don't really seem relevant. There is no meaning and no reason, just that daily A4's worth of gibberish. Onto the page. Out of the head, I suppose.

There's also the useful reminder that, unmoderated, even though mind and body crumble and day-to-day stuff beats you down, somewhere there remains the person you once were.

Authority: hate it. If you really want something from me, ask. Nicely. Don't demand or order me around. You'll get less than the square root of nothing.

Politics: don't tell me your rules. You guys are so twisted it's insane, and you want to tell me what's right and what's wrong?

Religion: see the above.

Yes, of course there's cretins who think money's more important than family music, art, friends, sport, etc. Why are they running everything, though?

I don't know exactly what 790 days is, two and a bit years, I guess.

I should add to that list above: naturally rebellious against arbitrary systems that needs a lot of learning. Like days in the year, months, etc. Bring in the metric week.