And so, gentle reader, we draw the curtains on 26 days of alphabet-prompted writing and cosy up once more beneath the duvet of sporadic blogging.

This month has been a good reminder of the pleasures and annoyances of writing to a schedule. I was going to write joys, and I suppose there is a bit of that, but the correct partner then would be pains (sunshine, rain), and that would make for a somewhat overstated representation of the process. Some of the posts cracked a direct line into my favoured seams of inspiration… some seemed rather like I was forcing water into the fissures a little, but not many, though, not really.

That aspect of going through the motions was a prime mover in stopping blogging last time I stopped, and managing to avoid that was positive. Finding suitable subjects was mostly fun. There were some topics I was interested in exploring that I abandoned for a complex of reasons, mainly because I didn’t have an appropriate amount of time to potter about in them to a satisfactory level.

Getting a smattering of chatter from pals has been good too. Sharing views… It – The Process (dramatically sincere and emphatic voice) – has whetted my appetite for producing more regular discursive whimsy in this or similar outlet.

It’ll probably more than likely be a newsletter in some form, although there’s an element of them being a bit five minutes ago. So it goes. Who knows what innovation waits round the corner… personal websites and… blogging?

Imagine. Right now, o thrice-blessed reader, I’ve careered through bedtime and it’s time for lights out on this month’s endeavours.

As part of the Great Clear Out, boxes full of things are being dislodged from their dust foundations and unlidded.

It would be great to announce the uncovering of some neglected but promising manuscript of a novel, an unfinished play, pretty fragments of verse, all ripe for renovation… there are many shards, but a well-decorated commode was still a commode.

I am quite taken by some of the clippings I’ve acquired, including this, from Vox magazine:

May 1994. I think it’s the slightly distrustful tone combined with wide-eyed wonder at the strange promise of the future.

You’ll soon be able to buy standard sized, five-inch discs that will play music and VHS-quality pictures (with the right system from Amiga, Macintosh and so on, of course).

Amiga, Macintosh and so on, of course. Never mind the march of technology – 24 years later, the very notion of wanting to keep something you’ve paid for seems quite retrograde.

So, yeah, it’s mostly going in the recycling.