Twelve Years A Blogger

It’s blogiversary time again.  It’s now twelve years since I started writing here.  Back in 2004 it seemed really important to have my own place to write.  That was because the whole idea of writing on the internet or through the internet was still quite new to me.  I’d been corporatized for quite a while and had to ask for permission to do so much and now here I was able to not only own my own domain, but set up some software on it and use it to publish my own writing without anyone’s permission but my own.  I was also approaching 40.  I’ve seen a few people lately turn 40 themselves and have been glad to be able to truthfully say “pretty much everything you know me for, I did after I was 40″

Now of course, I can do this everywhere and so can you.  There’s lots of places you can read me and lots of places I can put my stuff, but I think it’s important to recognise and be grateful for the very fact that we can do this so easily and have it presented here as it’s intended, not as some algorithm would have it arranged.

It all took off very quickly, within weeks I was out meeting other bloggers, becoming part of the scene, and within a few months, I was beginning to podcast too.  It’s seems very odd to me now that there was a time when the very act of doing it, of writing about my odd little life and talking into a recording machine while I wandered around London, was so novel that it got me paid work.

There have been times when I’ve written every day and there have been times when it’s been sparser but I’ve always felt I had this place to come back to and it’s really great to be able to see twelve years of archives built up.  Well OK, there are also some squee-making embarrassing bits but mostly I love what I’ve made here and the affordances it has allowed me.  Thanks for being around.

Photo: Portrait of the Artist as a Young Podcaster

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Come Steem with me!

I’ve been playing for the last few days with a new-ish blogging, social-networking, blockchain platform called Steemit.

Go ahead, join up (you can use your FB credentials) and right now, it looks like you get $8 worth of Steem Power (and I only got $3 when I joined!)

If you do, please follow me, upvote on my pictures post and leave a comment!

It’s not the complete future of blogging and social networking.  And it’s not even the complete future of blockchain incentivised micropayments either.  But it’s interesting to see (and speculate on) how a tipping incentive associated with posting, upvoting and commenting can work – both in terms of the actual payments made (very small!) and the effect that has on you to keep going, or not.

Of course, there’s a white paper but yeah, the currency and its derivatives are complex – I’ve given up for now on completely understanding how everything relates, what the numbers actually mean and just seeing what happens if I keep playing the game.  Cos you can just use it as a blog where most of the other users are libertarian, crypto-anarchist/capitalists with a few cosplayers and furries mixed in.

See you there, Steem-mates!

My week in pictures (with words)

I can only eat eggs if they don’t look like eggs. So boiled, poached, fried don’t work for me – the sight of Eggs Benedict is enough to make me hurl. But I can stomach omelettes and scrambled eggs just fine. Especially if I’m making it myself with the perfect blend of mushrooms and bird’s eye chilis.

Morning!

This is what can happen if you leave your bike for too long in the wrong part of London. Once one bit goes, people feel more entitled to pinch another. This one was near a bus stop – I expect a few bits went missing to people who were just waiting to ride home. Except that pedal.

Stripped

I’ve never noticed this before, but it’s part of a wall next to Lambeth North Tube Station – a way to add some distinctive decoration when all you’ve got is these brown glazed brick tiles. It’s the sort of thing you’d get post-war when materials were scarce but we didn’t want everything to look boring.

When tilers get bored

Morning walking before the bin men come and clean up. Someone had a late-night chicken and chips that they couldn’t quite finish and a Daily Mirror that they couldn’t bring themselves to begin. I wonder how Angela Lansbury imagined her picture on the front page being seen in London when she did the deal?

Tomorrow's Chip Paper

This truck was too big to go round the corner at Fulham Broadway at any speed so I had time to think “oh take a picture” and get my phone out. There’s some sort of super-drain project going on at the river, on the Fulham side of Wandsworth Bridge. I expect that’s where these mega-poop-conduits were headed.

Big Pipes

The roof of Earl’s Court Station – I included the top of my head for scale and identification – anyone could take a picture of that roof, but only mine has my cropped dome peeking in at the bottom. I was waiting for a train to Paddington on the Edgware Road Branch. Once we got on, as usual, it was clear that one family had mistaken this for a City/Victoria train. I wonder whether any train leaves Earls Court eastbound without someone having made a mistake about which branch they were getting on.

Roof