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Out & About in June

I just posted some favorite photos from June on my photo blog.  All cropped in the XPan 65:24 aspect ratio, which is one of my favorites.  You can check them out here.

Ordinary Places - Issue 1

I was in London, camera in hand, wandering the backstreets of Waterloo. Mary was happy—she loves discovering places that aren’t full of tourists. And I was happy too. Why? I wasn’t sure at first. I was snapping away, taking photos of dull, banal scenes—and loving it. I thought I might be having some sort of crisis. Why would I photograph a knackered old building? Or a façade full of graffiti and regret? Yet there I was, doing it. And looking for more. We passed an alleyway. Mary said, “Ooh look. That’s crap—take that photo.” And she was right. So I did. A dirty old alleyway with overflowing bins and broken doors. But the shot hummed with… something. I finished the roll that day and sent it off to the lab. When the scans came back, I was blown away. The ordinary places, the dull, banal scenes? They looked great. Not...

Friday July 4: Creative Breaks

A break this afternoon to complete a color study chart for my watercolours and a few evening pics from the deck.

““I speak not of transcendence, but of what shimmers before the mind moves to name it. Not the ultimate, but the immediate. The unsponsored. The unclaimed. Neither sacred nor profane. Not sanctified. Not high-minded. Not venerated. Just this.”” — Robert Saltzman, Beyond Spirituality 

📡✨ Updated

I spent some time this morning with my coffee to update and tweak my recently launched website: Who Is Numeric Citizen? What else should I include in this type of landing page? What would you like to learn from me?

A Hair-Raising Experience

During the Great Indoors Period™ (aka lockdown), I had a problem. My hair had gone rogue. It no longer resembled a haircut. It was more of a hedgerow. Possibly a wildlife sanctuary. A family of blackbirds had moved in. The sparrows ran tours. Still, no sign of barbers reopening. So, I turned to that vast digital emporium in the sky: Amazon. And I bought clippers. Proper ones. Multiple blades. Beard-trimming attachments. Rechargeable. Possibly capable of orbital launch. The beard needed sorting too. It had grown to Viking-at-sea levels. I kept losing spoons in it. The clippers arrived. The delivery driver obeyed social distancing by hurling them over the fence. No matter — they were well padded, possibly in Kevlar. I made a decision: Buzz cut. The full dome. A few millimetres of hair. Freedom. Aerodynamics. No more styling faff. Mary was… unconvinced. “Your whole head?” “Yep.” “Won’t you look like...

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Walked to Bob & Edith’s Diner for breakfast with the wife. Then we visited Gadsby’s Tavern Museum (see the likeness of Toby the Wonderful Pig in the pic). Grilled hot dogs and corn, the daughter made potato salad. The weather was lovely enough to eat on the patio. Now we wait for dark to go get ice cream and watch fireworks.

Tell Me a Story

There I was, typing words, lots of words about life, photography and biscuits.  Never once did I think that I was doing something that would compel me to write fictional stories. You see, in my Life category those stories are true, mostly. They have comedic embellishments but the core of the story is true.  Aha! I had a moment. Like the flash from a camera. A bolt of lightening scurrying across the sky.  The realisation made me run and make another mug of coffee and raid the biscuit tin (that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it like a sticky stick).  See, I was telling stories.  And that revelation astounded me. Because I’ve loved stories since I was a boy. We all love stories.  So, I vowed to write stories all the time. I’m an ageing blogger. I have plenty of stories from ordinary life I can tell.  That was...

I’ll Never Be An Artist

I like trying new things. So one day, I decided to take up watercolour painting. It was one of those decisions you regret long after the screaming stops. I bought a beginner’s set. Paints, brushes of varying thickness. Paper. Water — I had that already, being clever. I even ordered a book: Watercolour for Beginners. Nothing too taxing. I could already see the masterpieces. A cross between Monet and a minor electrical fire. I opened the book. Lesson 1: Mixing colours. “Add a dab of green and a dab of blue to get this lovely tone.” Right. I dabbed green. Dabbed blue. Result: vomit. Tried again. Slightly less vomit. Dipped the brush. Painted a blob. A mess. A sorrowful swamp. Still, not one to quit, I reached for my sketchbook. Drew my coffee mug. It came out looking drunk, but recognisably a mug. I felt hope. I mixed again. Dab....

The Teaspoon Incident

Now that Barnaby Blathers no longer walked sideways, he thought life was fine. Until, the revolt in his teaspoon drawer.  He got up one morning, Full of the joys of spring—or possibly the toys of string. Barnaby wasn’t quite awake yet. He went to the kitchen to make his usual giant mug of tea.  He set the kettle to boil (Wednesday mode, since it was Wednesday) and prepared the teapot and his mug.  He turned to fetch a teaspoon and the drawer was locked. Or wouldn’t open.  “What’s going on here?” “Sod off. We are on strike.” I muffled voice. Coming from the teaspoon drawer.  “Sorry, who is that?” “Bloody rude, that is! You don’t even know who we are!” “Teaspoons?” “Ooooh, well done!” “What’s the problem?” Silence. For a moment. There was a rustling, metallic clicking and then the drawer popped open.  A teaspoon, looking very annoyed appeared.  “Now...

““The way out of our cage begins with accepting absolutely everything about ourselves and our lives.”” — Tara Brach

a day at the beach

As I recently wrote, there's little technology in my life lately, but a lot of lived experience these past few months. If any post might seem bitter, the photo below is my way of showing how I'm savoring every second my new life is giving me with the people I love.  I remember well the life "stolen" during those hospital months, the fear of never living it again—and now I treat each day as the most beautiful gift life could give me. If I can hug those two, I'm happy and fulfilled.  

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A local sandwich shop, Eddie’s, has a refrigerator in their shop with a Ghostbusters-style warning sign. It warns that the refrigerator is possessed by Zuul.

The Perils of Winging It In Non-Fiction

Right, so, ‘pantsing’.  Not the sort of pantsing that involves, shall we say, a sudden and unwelcome exposure of your nether regions.  No, no, we’re talking about writing. The literary kind. Specifically, non-fiction. And even more specifically, the art – or lack thereof – of writing without a plan. Now, I’ve always been a bit of a planner. Not a meticulous, colour-coded spreadsheet sort of planner, mind you. More of a “general direction, a few scribbled notes on a napkin, and a vague sense of where I’m going” sort of planner. Which, let’s be honest, is still more than most people manage when attempting to navigate the M25 motorway. But pantsing, as they call it, well, that’s a different kettle of fish entirely. Who puts fish in a kettle? It surely would make your tea smell funny? It’s the literary equivalent of setting off on a cross-country ramble with no...

Barnaby And The Sideways Walk

Mr Barnaby Blathers needed a license to walk forward, which was the most ridiculous thing he’d heard since they’d banned walking backward on Tuesdays. He strode along the road with the confidence of a man who was going to achieve things.  He blissfully ignored the car horns and shouts of: “Oi! Mate! Are you blind?” From angry motorists he walked out in front of. Barnaby didn’t care. Today was the day.  He arrived more by luck than judgement at The Department of Forward Momentum.  He stepped in through the door and headed for the reception desk. “I’m here to see a Mr William Strait, please!”  The receptionist tapped keys and checked who he was.  “Right, Mr Blathers. His office is on the first floor. You can take the lift or the stairs. He is in the third office on the left.” “Take the lift or the stairs? I have my...

Another Routine Appointment That Wasn’t

It was time for my winter flu injection. I’m proud to say I’ve reached the age where I now get “the jab” for free — a small perk in exchange for my knees making that sound when I sit down. Little did I know I was about to be added to The Register. Off I went on foot to the GP surgery furthest from our house. We’ve got two, and I always — always — get sent to the one on the far side of Narnia. As I walked, two magpies followed me. Now, I never ignore magpies. I saluted, nodded politely, and asked how they were doing. “Better than you,” one replied. Then they buggered off. I didn’t get the chance to ask what that meant, which felt ominous. On the way, I thought about The Jab™. I don’t mind the flu version — seems sensible enough. Unlike that...

What Am I Even Blogging About?

I’ve been thinking lately about what to blog about. I’ve had several ideas. The reason I’m blogging about this is because I’ve been trying to figure out what should be a blog post. I tend to think posts should be medium to long in nature. But people aren’t reading my stuff anyway, and honestly, do I really care? I’m blogging for myself, just to get my thoughts down and out of my head. I use Sharkey and Micro.blog for what I call short-burst posts and reactions to things happening in the moment. Kind of like I did back in the pre-Musk Twitter days. Back in February, I blogged about whether anybody even reads my posts. In the weeks and months that followed, I saw other people wondering the same thing. I found that kind of amusing, since I had just written about it and was thinking the exact same thing....

There is no thought, idea, concept or story that can survive the raw actuality of experience. Not even this one 😉

Self interest is a dead end.

Open and warm on the Exeter Cathedral green.

It's a fine morning on the Exeter Cathedral green, and my stall is all set up and ready to go! I have all my popular lamps, seed head garden ornaments, herb strippers, assorted dishes and cards for sale, and a new addition are some hand-crafted earrings too.If it stays as sunny and warm as it is now, it's going to be a lovely event to be at for the three days.  Why not pop along and say hello if you're in Exeter over the weekend!

Good morning.

Ageing Sucks - Part 1

I stood on our weighing scales and they groaned in pain. “Great,” I thought. “Even the scales think I’m a fat bugger.” I went downstairs with a heavy heart and according to the scales, a heavy body. “I’ve put weight on, love.” Mary looked up and gave me a suspicious look. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Why are you weighing yourself?” “I feel fat.” She gave me the look reserved for children who’ve had too many Haribos. “You’re fine. Stop worrying.” But I do worry. It’s one of the things about ageing. Everything else starts to creak, wobble and break down. But my weight? I walked past Greggs yesterday and put on half a stone. “I only have to look at a biscuit and I’ll put weight on.” “We will go for a walk in a bit. You’ll feel better. Stop panicking about your weight. There’s more to life than...

Talking To The Birds

I wandered out into my garden because my head was spinning with problems. And they were the sort of problems that are a problem.  There was a pigeon sitting on our garden fence.  I thought: he looks fed up, I’ll have a chat with him.  “Alright, mate. How’s the family?”  “Coo.”  “Aah, it’s ok, pal. Your secret is safe with me. I know pigeons can talk.”  The pigeon fluttered its wings and moved down the fence a few feet further away.  “Coo.”  “Blimey, is that all I’m getting? Just trying to be friendly.”  Just then, a Magpie landed on the fence next to the pigeon. He waddled over to me and sniffed. “Have you been talking to Olivero?” “I have, but he’s not saying much.”  “He doesn’t speak English, he’s from Spain.”  “Blimey, that was a long flight.” “Nah, he got a cheap deal from British Airways.”  Now that threw...

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Hard to tell here, but these four townhomes have an interesting roof line; and they’ve staggered them all in a nice, pleasing way.

Journalling The Hard Way

Keeping a journal is supposed to be therapeutic. Mine has become my most challenging relationship. I know, right? How does keeping a journal become a challenging relationship?  Well, it goes like this… ANDY: Ah, I won’t bother making an entry today, I can’t be arsed.  JOURNAL: WHAT?! You HAVE to make an entry! Do you know what happens to journals that don’t get fed daily? We wither! We become those sad, half-empty notebooks in junk drawers! ANDY: Why am I talking to a journal? JOURNAL: Rude! Do you think I don’t exist? Much more of that? And you’ll have a journal with a complex. And when that happens? Bloody hell. I sit here now. Daily. Wishing quietly (so the journal doesn’t hear me) that I hadn’t bothered starting one.  Because, trying to come up with things to write about is a nightmare.  I used to think I could just write...

The Empire Strikes a Match

I was stood quietly, washing the dishes. And let me clear: I wasn’t thinking about anything in particular. Certainly not about galaxies far, far away.  Nope, instead, I was pondering whether the bubbles in the soap suds might actually be farts from the dishes I was washing. And I was counting how many survived the leap from the bowl to the drainer.  Then out of nowhere, I though rattled through my mind: ““The Empire Strikes a Match”” I mean, what? But it did get me wondering... Lord Vader: “Who turned the LIGHTS OFF? I sense a failure in The Force.” Admiral Piet: “Erm, don’t know how to tell you this, my Lord…” Lord Vader: “Did you forget to pay the leccy bill again? Admiral Piet: “I told Captain Needa to pay it.” Lord Vader: “Send him TO ME…” Or something.  But where the hell did that thought come from? I...

““Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it.”” — Haruki Murakami

Good morning.

Blogging Tips #3 - The Consistent Consistency of Being Consistent

Hello, fellow scribblers, typers, and digital ink-spillers.  Today I wish to talk about consistency. Not the sort you find in porridge (lumpy), nor the sort in your custard (hopefully less lumpy), but the subtle, often unseen, highly potent art of doing the same damn thing over and over again—otherwise known as blogging regularly. When I was a lad I thought the only thing that needed consistency was jam. But oh, how the world’s changed. Now, everyone and their uncle has a blog, and their dog probably has a blog too. And perhaps, if you’re clever, your dog writes yours (in which case, ignore all I say and ask the dog). You see, writing is much like brushing your teeth: do it every day, hopefully not with the same brush you clean the dog with, and you’ll have something to smile about. Blogging, in particular, is about showing up. Not in...

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Saw these gigantic flowers on our walk this morning.

Write Like Your Shed Is On Fire

If you’re reading this, congratulations! You have survived another day without your shed spontaneously combusting. But what if it did? What if, as you sat there, pen poised or keyboard clattering, you noticed a faint whiff of smoke curling up from behind the lawnmower? Would you pause to check your spelling? Would you stop to ponder whether “smouldering” has a ‘u’ in it? (It does, unless you’re American, in which case it’s probably already on fire.) No, you would not. You would write with the urgency of a person whose garden tools are about to become toast. And that, readers, is exactly how you should approach your writing. Editing is important. Editing is what stops us from sending emails that say “I love you” to our bank managers. But too much editing is like painting your shed so many times that you can’t open the door anymore. Your voice is...

• 🔍 Pixel tracking - finally track your RSS subscribers and newsletter readers! Add invisible 1x1 pixel images to your feeds and emails to see who's actually reading your content. Right now it automatically detects popular RSS readers. This data is not yet filterable in the dashboard but will eventually allow you to check by rss reader and others — although it does count and record hits as usual (as expected). Read about it here. • 🌐 New Community tab focused on personal web analytics - this is where you'll find pixel tracking tools, visitor journey insights, and community engagement metrics rather than just traffic numbers. It's all about connections and the personal web. I’ve been inspired by a few comments and blog posts about this topic so wanted to start something here. This is opt-in and you need to go to the site settings and then head to UI...

📡✨ Hate

I'm sorry to tell you that Apple is making me hate... glass. They better fix their game before this fall.

The Day I Was Nearly Eaten By A Confused Shark

It was either a shark or a dolphin. I’m going with a shark… I went swimming off Ryde. Because the tide was in, the water was warm(ish), and I thought I looked quite good in my swimming shorts. I was wrong about the shorts, of course, but that’s not the point. Roughly twelve flaps from shore, I noticed a ripple. A sleek, grey shape approached. It was definitely a thing. And it was definitely approaching me, which, in the wild, is rarely a great sign unless you’re holding a sandwich. I prepared myself. For a dolphin. Or maybe a shark. For a Portsmouth scuba diver in a wetsuit. I wasn’t sure. It glided closer. Then turned away. Just like that. No apology. No autograph. No nibble. I floated there like a surprised crouton, watching it swim off toward the mainland. Probably had a lunch booking. Later, I googled “solent shark...

““Silence is not freedom from sounds. Silence is not freedom from thoughts. Silence is freedom from some other moment – past or future.”” — Dorothy Hunt

Scholarly Publishing's Hidden Diversity: How Exclusive Databases Like WoS Sustain the Oligopoly

How do exclusive databases like Web of Science sustain the oligopoly of academic publishers? A closer look at hidden diversity in scholarly publishing—and why it matters for open access, bibliodiversity, and global equity.When I discuss the state of academic publishing with colleagues, the conversation often turns to the "big five" publishers and their perceived stranglehold on the system.  The story is familiar: a handful of corporate giants dominate the flow of scholarly knowledge, setting prices, controlling access, and shaping what counts as legitimate research. But is this the whole picture? A recent article in PLOS ONE challenges this narrative, revealing a hidden diversity in scholarly publishing that's masked by the very tools we use to measure it (Larivière et al., 2025). The Database Lens: Seeing What We're Allowed to SeeThe crux of the problem lies in the databases we rely on, especially the Web of Science (WoS). WoS is highly...

Happy Canada Day

More than ever I appreciate how fortunate I am to call this place home.

Reading Out Loud

I wandered out into the garden with my latest blog post open on my phone screen.  I started reading it out loud.  “Shaddap will ya? You are keepin’ me an the missus awake!” I looked around. Ah, a Magpie. I hadn’t spotted him, to be fair.  “Won’t be long mate, have a listen and tell me what you think, if you like!” “Wot I fink is, you should shut the hell up!” Hmm, bit grumpy. I carried on reading. But stopped. The Magpie was giving me serious side-eye.  “Look mate, I always read my blog posts out loud. To check they sound ok. Meaning they will read ok.” “Yeah? And I care because?” “Well, I know you don’t care. Why would you? But it’s a nice day so I thought I’d come out here.” The Magpie puffed out his chest and looked like he was about to peck my eyes...

A Brief Collapse Over Chips

We were on holiday on the Isle of Wight. A place I’ve loved since I was a child. Mary and I are walkers. We cover miles and miles around the Island like a pair of caffeinated satnavs. Now, I’m on the wrong side of sixty, and health-wise, let’s just say I’ve had a few… plot twists. Me and physical fitness are like sparring partners — except I keep getting punched. This particular day started with a 10k jog. Not a big deal for some, but for me? Monumental. I hadn’t run that far in over a year. After a heroic Isle of Wight breakfast (mostly fried things and courage), we set off on a hike. We walked 12.5 miles. In sun. And wind. Not a gentle breeze. The sort of wind that interrupts your thoughts and tries to fold your map into a pigeon. We trekked from Yarmouth to Alum...

Good morning.

Blogging Tips #2 - Clarity

I need to be clear about this.  You could write the most glorious blog post ever, a vibrant tapestry woven with rich colours and intricate patterns.  But if your readers can’t follow it? You may as well not bother, for it will be like a masterpiece hidden be hind a locked door—stunning yet inaccessible to those who try to get it. Even if they climb in through the window.  There’s a simple trick. Nothing special. Nothing fancy.  Know what you are going to say.  And I mean really know it.  Like a penguin knows it’s not going to win a dance-off at a disco, waddling in with all the grace of a hippo on roller blades.  Then, you can weave around a bit. Throw in a pun. Or two. Mess with the meaning, before bringing it back to your point.  See, that’s why transistors are impotent. Without them, your writing...