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Written in 2018.

Separation anxiety

My son is in France on a school trip, his first time abroad without us.

He is having a great time. I am finding it harder than I expected.

Whenever I am away, I know that he misses me terribly. Now I am getting a taste of that feeling myself.

He comes home this evening. The last time I saw him was in the early hours of Wednesday morning, and it already feels like weeks ago. I cannot wait to see him and to hear about his adventures.

Over the coming months, I will be travelling to race tracks to cover various championships. I will go, do my work, and come straight back home again.

Home is where the heart is. My family means everything to me, especially when love makes absence feel this loud.

Written in 2018.

The priority priority

Lately, I am being pulled in fewer directions than I have been in the past.

I still do not have a day job, and I am continually trying to work out a way of getting paid for doing the things that bring me joy.

I love to write. I like to create imagery, watch films, and travel. Most of all, I enjoy spending time with my family and a few close friends.

My priority has to be living a fulfilled life. My wife and son keep my compass true, helping me stay on course towards something that really matters.

It has also become clear that I need to pay close attention to my health again.

Some priorities announce themselves quietly, but they are no less decisive for it.

Written in 2020.

I used to think generosity was a fixed trait.

Something you either had or did not. A baseline you could rely on, in yourself and in others.

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Written in 2017.

That if something mattered, it needed to be fixed, managed, or improved. That leaving things alone was a form of neglect.

Over time, that belief became exhausting.

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Written in 2017.

When You Stop Explaining Yourself

There comes a point when you stop explaining yourself.

Not because you have run out of words, but because you no longer feel the need to justify your choices to everyone else.

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Written in 2016.

Not just relationships or work, but routines, plans, even moods. When everything feels provisional, it becomes difficult to settle into anything fully.

You hesitate. You wait. You keep one foot slightly raised, just in case.

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Written in 2015.

There is a quiet reassurance in things that have stayed.

Old coats that still fit the same way. Mugs that feel right in your hand. Books you have moved from house to house without ever really questioning why.

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Written in 2015.

There is a strange discomfort that comes with quiet.

Not the restful kind, but the sort that arrives when you stop being visible. When there are fewer responses, fewer signals that you are being seen or acknowledged.

It is easy to mistake that silence for failure.

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So, here we are. The very last day of 2025, the final hours before we step into 2026 and whatever comes next.

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This is not a feed.
It is a place to put things down.

Some of what you will find here was written years ago. Some of it is more recent. What matters is not when it was written, but that it still feels worth standing by.

Nothing here is optimised.
Nothing is chasing attention.

These pieces exist because writing helps me think clearly, notice what matters, and leave a trail I can recognise later. If something resonates, that is welcome. If it does not, that is fine too.

This is a quiet place by design.
You are not expected to keep up.

Read slowly. Or do not read at all. The choice is yours.