The Blog Where Nothing Interesting Ever Happens

 I have read many posts that have asked the question, ‘Why do I blog?’ and after more than a year writing these chronicles I have now reached that almost inevitable stage in the cycle.

It’s been a while since I wrote a post about family life.  Such has been my obsession with food and cooking, I’ve completely neglected to spare a post or two for my kids – and that must be a good thing: for it means that life is pretty much tootling along like the 10 year-old Volvo estate that is our family car.

In short: nothing has happened. Nothing of any note, anyway.

But hang on, my favourite comedy of all-time is Seinfeld – ‘a show about nothing, where nothing happens’. Which in reality, is a show where everything happens on the premise that even the most ordinary people lead extraordinary lives.

I had a look back at my blog archives and realised that I pretty much wrote about nothing all the time. Every family event was recorded, either for posterity, entertainment, or because I simply needed to get it out of my system, y’know, this writing lark being very cathartic etc.

But just lately, I’ve lost that need to commit my thoughts to the cybernet. I realised I was spending way too much time effectively writing a diary for a very few others’ to read and not enough time engaging with the real, physical world.

It wasn’t so much an epiphany; more like an evolution.

I got back in touch with old friends; made new ones in the pub. Stopped writing, started chatting. Stopped seeing every little thing my kids did as fodder for a blog post; started living in the moment.

At first, I felt like a gambler giving up his fix. Instead of betting on everything, I’d be more selective. If something exciting happened, I’d write about it. If nothing exciting happened, I’d carry on with my real world endeavours. And let’s face it, VERY little exciting happens to a housedad, unless you count finding a fiver in a pocket that has survived a 40 degree wash.

My blog has become primarily about the thing that turns me on: cooking. Why write about ironing, when you can write about thrice-cooked chips? It’s a no-brainer.

Or is it? As I reflect on the week since I wrote a family-focused blog (only a week? Christ, it feels like forever), I realise that so much has happened that I will never remember because I won’t have a blog post to remind me about it.

Because that’s what this blog is about, really: an archive of our family life for my children to one day look back on, and perhaps one day to show their own children.

‘What was life like when you were a kid, Dad?’ my grandchildren may ask my own children when they’re parents.

‘Stop asking stupid questions and read your grandad’s blog,’ their parents – my kids – might reply.

• Tune in soon for another instalment of the Blog Where Nothing Interesting Ever Happens But He Keeps On Writing About It Anyway. Just like the post you’ve just read!




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4 Responses to The Blog Where Nothing Interesting Ever Happens

  1. Whichever way you go Keith, food or family. I’ll still be watching.


  2. Dazed

    Welcome back – you were missed.

  3. I thought this was going to be one of those, ‘I’m giving up blogging’ posts. Glad it’s not.

  4. Allotment Man

    Thank f you’re back – bed time reading restored