I Thought Facts Would Matter More

I noticed something during my brief spell as a paper candidate for the Liberal Democrats recently, and that is that people don't just hold opinions anymore ... they hold beliefs. Deep ones.

And once those beliefs settle in, facts barely seem to matter, in fact I don't think they do matter.

During the May 2026 local elections I spoke to several people who wanted to vote for Reform UK because they wanted someone who would “stop the boats”. The strange part was that even when you pointed out that local councillors have absolutely no control over immigration policy or border enforcement, it often made no difference at all.

The belief had already locked into place and cannot (always) be rocked.

I saw the same thing online. A Facebook friend confidently posted that “there’s only one party not funded in any way by Israel, and that’s the Greens.”

The problem is that this is simply untrue.

As I pointed out, under UK law, political parties cannot accept funding from foreign governments or foreign states anyway. It’s illegal under the Political Parties, Elections and Referendums Act 2000.

When I asked for evidence that the Liberal Democrats were receiving money from the State of Israel, there was a change of goalposts, this time they pointed out that response was that the party has a “Liberal Democrat Friends of Israel” group ... which it does ... it also has "Liberal Democrat Friends of Palestine" group too..

Both of which, as I explained in my exchange with them, are internal associated groups made up of members and supporters with particular views on the Middle East. Neither means the party is secretly funded by a foreign government.

But again, the facts didn’t really matter.

That’s the bit I struggle with.  If I’m wrong about something, and somebody proves it properly, I’ll usually back down. I’ll probably try to save face first because I’m human ... but eventually facts win.

For some people though, belief seems to become reality. Even when reality itself disagrees.

And I still can’t quite get my head around that.

Attention Tax

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about interruptions at work; not just obvious interruptions like phone calls, Teams messages, or someone asking “got a minute?” (although they can be a pain too), but the hidden cost that comes after the interruption.

I think most workplaces still treat interruptions as a simple time problem, where if somebody interrupts you for 10 minutes, then supposedly you've lost 10 minutes of work.

But that isn’t really how it works is it. Well not for me anyway!

You'll notice it especially if you’re doing deeper work ... writing, planning, problem solving, analysing data, designing something, trying to properly think something through ... the interruption itself is only part of the damage.

There’s also the refocus time afterwards.

You have to mentally reload the task back into your brain. Remember where you were. Rebuild the momentum. Re-enter the thought process you were already halfway through before somebody derailed it.

Sometimes a 2 minute interruption can cost 20 minutes of useful thinking.

I’ve started thinking of this as an “Attention Tax”.

Every interruption taxes your concentration a little bit. One interruption is manageable. Ten in a day starts fragmenting your thinking completely.

And I think this is partly why some days feel mentally exhausting even if you’ve technically “done loads”, you haven’t spent the day doing productive work, you’ve spent the day rebuilding momentum over and over again.

Modern workplaces almost seem designed around interruption now.

Side note: I remember when I started by career in British Telecom in 1987, been told that when it was still the civil service, managers had flags attached to their intrays, and if a red flag was showing, you couldn't talk to them ... I sometimes wish I had that here. 

Emails. Teams notifications. Meetings. “Quick questions”. Artificial urgency. Constant deadline pressure.

We also seem to reward responsiveness, it's deemed to be a good things if you accept the interruption and rude if you don't, but I’m not convinced we reward depth anymore.

I touched on some of this already in my post about why I hate deadlines, but I think there’s probably a bigger idea buried in all this somewhere.

This is definitely a seed post for now. I think there’s more to explore here.

Carters of Knottingley Brewery

There’s something strange about finding history on your own doorstep. I've lived in and around Knottingley for a very long time, I've spent years drinking beer, and more recently started writing about it, yet I had no idea that Knottingley once had its own proper brewery. Not a small operation either, but a serious one with tied houses, its own identity, and a long run in the town.

Once I found it, I couldn’t unsee it. And once I started reading more, the thought crept in… what if it came back? Not as a museum piece or a nostalgia exercise, but as a living Yorkshire beer again. This isn’t a business plan, it’s more of a running note, somewhere to collect the story and see where it leads.

The early days

Carters begins around the turn of the 1800s, built on a partnership that brought together three very different people and strengths.

• Mark Carter came with brewing knowledge from an established family
• Edward Gaggs brought money and local influence through his work in limestone and shipping
• Robert Seaton added financial weight through banking. 

It’s a strong mix when you look back at it now, and it explains how quickly things moved.

At first, brewing took place in older buildings near the town, but that changed within a few years. By 1807, land at Mill Close had been bought, and by 1808 to 1809 a purpose-built brewery stood at Hill Top alongside Lime Grove (opposite where Morrisons is today). That quick and dramatic shift says a lot. This was never a side project; it was set up to be a proper, long-term operation.

Building a proper brewery

Through the early 1800s, the brewery established itself as a known local producer. By 1822 it appears in trade directories as “common brewers” at Mill Close, which gives a sense of its standing at the time. The site itself had real advantages, with deep bore water drawn from limestone, likely early use of steam power, and strong links to local transport and industry. It grew alongside the town rather than sitting outside it.

The Carter family years

The Carter name stayed central as ownership passed through generations. In 1836, Mark Carter stepped back and John Carter took control, and then in 1873 George William Carter succeeded him. By this stage the brewery had moved beyond being just a local concern; it had scale, structure, and a recognisable identity, it wasn't starting to become known as a never capable brewer of decent ales.

One detail from this period stands out more than most. In 1877, the brewery registered a trademark featuring a Talbot dog taken from the Carter coat of arms. It’s a small piece of history on the surface, but it carries real weight. If the name ever returned, that symbol would be the natural bridge between past and present.

Expansion and peak

In 1892, the business became a public company, with Carters’ Knottingley Brewery Company Ltd formed to acquire the brewery, Lime Grove, and 66 tied houses for £170,000 (approx £28m in todays money, that's not much less than the £33m it cost Tilbury Brands to buy BrewDog in March 2026). That figure alone tells you the scale of the operation at the time, and it marks the point where the brewery was fully established as a regional player.

At its peak, Carters was producing somewhere around 6,500 to 7,000 barrels a year (about 2m pints to you and me) and controlling close to 68 licensed houses. That puts it firmly in the category of a serious Yorkshire brewery rather than a small local outfit.

Trouble and takeover

The early 1930s brought problems. Internal struggles, legal disputes, and pressure on the business began to take their toll, and by 1935 the end came quickly. The brewery was taken over by Bentleys, and brewing in Knottingley stopped that same year.

The name didn’t disappear overnight, but the brewing itself did, and that was the turning point. What followed was less about beer and more about ownership on paper.

The slow disappearance

After the takeover, the brewery became part of a much larger chain. It moved through Bentleys, then into Whitbread, then Interbrew, and eventually into AB InBev. That corporate path explains why the local identity faded, as the brand was absorbed into something much bigger.

By 1965, the Hill Top site was sold off, and not long after it was demolished and replaced with housing. At that point, the physical brewery disappeared completely, leaving only records and fragments of the story behind.

Where that leaves it now

So what’s left today is not a building or a working brewery, but something just as interesting. There’s a clear founding story, named people, production figures, tied houses, and even a registered trademark with a strong visual identity. That’s more than most modern breweries ever start with, and it gives the whole idea a different weight.

The idea that won’t go away

This is the part I keep coming back to. There’s a difference between inventing a brand and picking up a dropped one. Carters isn’t made up; it existed, it brewed, and it mattered locally. Bringing it back would not be about pretending nothing changed, but about continuing the story in a way that feels honest.

If it ever did return, it would need to stay grounded. Yorkshire first, a clear link back to Knottingley, a modern take on the Talbot symbol, and no overblown claims about heritage. Just a straight line from then to now, with a long pause in the middle.

Where this goes next

For now, this stays as a working note. A place to collect dates, names, ideas, and the odd bit of inspiration as it comes along. It might grow into something more practical over time, or it might simply remain a record of a brewery that used to exist and still probably should.

Either way, it’s not going anywhere now I’ve found it.

 

 

 

A Move to Spain

We never really talked about moving abroad.

Life was here in the UK. Family was here. And now there’s a grandson in the mix too. That should have been enough to keep us rooted... but something suddenly changed.

I guess recent family events have a way of doing that. They changed the way we thought about life. Both my wife and I suddenly realised that life is for living. It has to be fun and enjoyable, and maybe a move abroad could do that for us.

We could stay in Yorkshire, or in the UK at least, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But the reality is our family is already dotted all over the UK. It’s not like we’re all on the same street.

My wife watches a lot of A Place in the Sun, and the life you can have out there, especially in early retirement, looks pretty idyllic.

And if any of our kids turned around tomorrow and said they were off to live abroad, we wouldn’t hesitate to back them.

It was while we were holidaying in Salou, Spain, at the Costa Durada Hotel, in September 2025 that we both suddenly twigged that Spain could actually be our place in the sun. A new home, maybe.

It ticked a lot of boxes for us. A good and cheaper holiday base for the kids and grandchildren, PortAventura World right next door, only around a two-hour flight from the UK, and roughly 7 to 9 hours of sun a day for much of the year. In summer, it regularly hits 10 to 12 hours a day. Perfect.

Within a couple of days, we had drawn up a draft five-year plan (see below).

We went to A Place in the Sun Live in Manchester earlier in 2026. It was good. Useful. Also a bit of a blur. Too many talks, too many options, too many people telling you slightly different things.

We came away with more questions than answers, but probably a little more eager to look into it properly.

Spain stayed on our radar. It’s familiar, it’s proven, and there’s a big expat community, which makes the whole thing feel less like jumping off a cliff; but at the same time, neither my wife nor I want to just recreate the UK in warmer weather. We want a mix. A bit of familiarity, yes, but also the language, the culture, and the everyday differences. We would like to become more integrated into Spanish life.

The loose idea is simple. Rent first. See how it actually feels when it’s not a holiday. No pressure, no big commitments straight away.

I personally think I’d get bored just sat in a Spanish home watching the sun rise and set every day, so maybe we need something that keeps us busy and generates a small income.

Something flexible. Copywriting makes sense for us. It fits around life rather than the other way round, and we’ve done it before as a small business.

We’re not rushing into this. Five years feels about right for us. Long enough to do it properly, not just react to a feeling. Long enough to get plans, figures, and ideas properly into motion.

What follows is the plan as it stands. It will change over time as we get things sorted.

The Shape of the Move

This isn’t planned to be a clean break. Certainly not from the beginning.

We want it to feel like we’re easing ourselves into it.

We’ll rent in Spain first. A couple of months to start with, maybe longer if it feels right. Just to see what everyday life looks like when the novelty wears off a bit.

Back here, the house stays. At least for now.

While we were at A Place in the Sun Live, we spoke to a wealth manager who pointed out that a house in the UK can still drain cash. Yes, it’s an asset, but we would have to pay someone to manage it for us. We would also have repairs and maintenance to pay for, even though virtually everything is brand new, including the roof, doors, windows, bathroom, and kitchen.

He recommended selling and using the cash to live off.

I must admit, the most appealing part for me is keeping it. But the thought of strangers living in it and not keeping it as I would like does bother me.

All that said and done, right now, we are still thinking about renting it out. Keep it as an asset. Keep a bit of security behind us. If it works, great, it helps fund things in Spain. If it doesn’t, we’ve still got options for returning.

The Plan as it Stands

These are my working notes.

2026 - Property and Budget Groundwork

Mortgage paid off... finally. That still feels good to say.

Where might we move to?

We had looked at Salou. We are actually out here now at the H10 Salou Princess, which is why I decided to write this. We like the area, and there is PortAventura World on the doorstep, which is useful for when family come to stay. But it is perhaps a little too busy.

The next trip will be further south, to take a look at the province of Murcia.

From here, it’s about building a proper buffer. Moving costs add up quickly when you start looking at them properly. Deposits, removals, visas, and a bit of breathing space on top.

We did find out that transporting the dog to Spain could cost us £3,000 alone.

We’ll start clearing out the obvious clutter. Nothing dramatic. Just stop holding onto things we don’t need.

I also want a rough handle on finances. Pensions, savings, and how they behave if we’re living somewhere else. Not deep detail yet, just enough to avoid getting caught out.

And we’ll keep an eye on local rental values. If the house is going to work for us as a rental, it needs to stack up financially.

2027 - Health, Legal, and Reality Checks

This is where it starts to feel a bit more serious.

Healthcare is a big one. We need to understand how it works in Spain, what we need in place, and what it actually costs. Private health insurance will need proper research, especially by age, cover level, and any waiting periods.

Same with tax. I’d rather ask HMRC early than guess and regret it later. We also need proper advice on Spanish tax residency, especially if we keep the UK house and rent it out.

Visa rules will probably change between now and then, so this is more about staying up to date than locking anything in. The non-lucrative visa looks like one possible route, but we need to check the financial requirements properly and understand whether it allows the sort of lifestyle we want.

We also need to understand Spanish wealth tax and inheritance tax. From what we have seen already, these can vary by region, so where we live may matter more than we first thought.

That feels like proper advice territory, not “read a few blogs and hope for the best” territory.

We’ll also start learning Spanish. Slowly. Probably badly at first. But it’s part of it.

And we’ll spend time in Spain outside of peak season. Not the shiny version. The normal version.

2028 - Line up the Move

This is when it starts to feel closer.

We’ll begin speaking to estate agents in Spain and properly looking at rental options.

At the same time, we’ll get a feel for the cost of moving everything over. Or whether it’s even worth it.

We’ll need to make sure money moves easily between the UK and Spain. Income, pensions, rental payments, and any savings. It all needs to work without becoming a monthly headache.

This is also when we need to look properly at dog transport. The £3,000 figure sounds high, so we need to compare options. Specialist pet transport may be worth it, but we should also understand what can be done ourselves, what paperwork is needed, and what Hela would cope with best.

And this is where the proper clear-out happens.

Hela needs sorting too. Vaccinations, paperwork, travel requirements. All of it.

2029 - Decision Year

This is the one that probably matters most.

We’ll spend a full month in Spain. Not as visitors, just living. Shopping, cooking, getting bored, dealing with normal life.

That should tell us what we need to know.

We’ll also decide what happens with the house. Rent it, or sell it. Right now it’s roughly £175k value and about £650 a month rental, but that’s just a guide and needs checking closer to the time.

Visa applications start here. Residency. Bank accounts. All the paperwork that turns an idea into something real.

2030 - Move Year

If it still feels right... we go.

Move into a rental, or something more permanent if it lines up.

Sort the UK house properly so it’s not something we’re worrying about from a distance.

And then just settle.

Find a vet for Hela. Register with a doctor. Work out where we actually like going for a coffee. Start building something that feels normal.

Where My (Our) Head’s At

It still feels a bit strange writing this down.

Some days it feels exciting. Other days it feels like a lot. Sometimes it feels like too much.

The thought of leaving family, the kids, and a grandson is difficult. But like I said earlier, we wouldn’t stop any of our family moving away. They are already in different corners of the UK as it is, and we know they wouldn’t stop us.

But we keep coming back to the same thought - we’ve spent years doing what we should do. Working, paying the mortgage, building something stable, bringing up a family, and doing the right stuff.

And all that has been right.

But this feels like something WE want to do.

This isn’t locked in. It’s not a perfect plan, and it doesn’t need to be. I’ll keep adding to this as we go, changing bits when reality gets in the way, or when something better comes along.

At the very least, we’ll still have a decluttered home, some brilliant memories, more trips to Spain under our belts, and hopefully a bit more Spanish than we have now.

How’s it Going?

Progress is slow, very slow.

It’s currently May 2026, and here we are again in Salou. Possibly our last visit here for now, just to see if we generally like the area and to take a look in estate agents’ windows.

Still don’t know the ruddy language.

But we do like the area, so it is still on our shortlist. Next, we’ll probably look at southern Spain, most likely around the Murcia region and as we have a cruise lined up for November 2026 (which does actually take in Vigo on Spain’s northwest coast), so our Spanish move trip might have wait until 2027!

We’re Claiming Compensation for Sun Loungers Now?

Just read this on the BBC News and honestly… I had to comment.

BBC News - German tourist wins payout after losing sun lounger race

A German tourist has won compensation after repeatedly failing to get a sun lounger during a family holiday.

The man reportedly paid £6,211 for an all-inclusive holiday in Spain, but found that other guests were reserving loungers early in the morning, leaving his family without places together around the pool.

A court awarded compensation of £852.89 after ruling that the hotel failed to provide the expected holiday experience.

I honestly think I’ve heard it all now.

Now before anyone jumps in… I do actually understand the frustration. If I’d paid more than £6,000 for a family holiday, I’d probably expect to be able to sit around the pool together too.

But there are a few things in this story that I’d genuinely like to understand.

First of all, did the guests complain to the hotel or tour operator at the time? Surely you have to give somebody the chance to put things right before taking legal action afterwards.

Secondly… were they also not up early trying to get loungers?

Because let’s be honest, nobody discovers "the great sun lounger race" by accident. If you know towels are going down at 7am, chances are you’ve been down there at 7am yourself at least once.

And another thing… were there actually no loungers available at all, or just none together?

Because those are two very different complaints.

Anyone who has stayed at a busy family hotel abroad knows the drill. You either get down early, accept sitting separately, or spend half your holiday glaring at people who have "reserved" loungers with a paperback and a single flip-flop.

I just wonder where this sort of thing ends.

Can people now claim because the lifts broke and they had to use the stairs? Been there, done that.

Or because it rained for two days during a beach holiday? Been there too.

What about exchange rates moving against you while you’re away, so everything suddenly costs more than expected?

Or because the "sea view" involved leaning over the balcony, squinting between two palm trees, and technically spotting a blue line in the distance?

Or because the hotel buffet chips were somehow both undercooked and cold?

Or because the evening entertainment was a man with a keyboard murdering ABBA songs while dressed like a cruise ship magician?

At some point holidays stop being holidays and start becoming consumer disputes with swimming pools attached.

Don’t get me wrong, hotels should absolutely provide what they advertise, and some hotels genuinely do a terrible job managing lounger shortages. But part of me feels that modern holiday culture has become obsessed with compensation.

Sometimes things just go wrong.

Sometimes the pool is busy.

Sometimes you end up three floors up because the lift is broken.

And sometimes somebody called Klaus has put a towel on six loungers before sunrise and vanished until lunchtime.

That’s not a legal case… that’s just being on holiday.

I'm on Holiday ... but I'm not!

I used to find it really difficult to switch off from work when I was on holiday.

In fact, I got to loathe the idea of a “holiday” because it often became another way of saying I was working from a different chair, or a different country, I would respond to emails and messages no matter where I was, what I was doing, or who I was with. Even when I was on holiday with my children, work still found a way in.

But over the last couple of years, something in me has changed; here I am now, waiting for a flight to Spain with my wife, and work could not be further from my mind.

And honestly, it feels brilliant.Want to know how I flicked that switch?

1. I’m gone

As my holiday gets closer, I let people in the business and key suppliers know I’ll be away.

Not half away. Not “still checking emails” away. Properly away.

I’m on holiday, and I’m gone. Period.

I think giving people clear notice before you leave is a great form of professional respect. Everyone knows where they stand, and nobody is left guessing. And you can start to get support to get some major projects closer to a answer before you leave.

2. The handoff

I hate the soft handoff with a passion; you know the one: “I'm going away, but you can contact me if it’s an absolute emergency.”

It's a statement that sounds helpful, but it keeps the door open; and once the door is open, work starts to creep in, and lots of things become an emergancy and need your attention ... but you allowed it.

So now what I do is I assign clear owners to every active project and/or task before I go away. Everyone in the business knows what is happening, who is responsible, and what needs to move forward.

More importantly, they know I trust them to make decisions while I’m not there, and I have some decent processes in place with plenty of checks and balanced.

My goal is to return to projects that have moved on, not a pile of “waiting for your approval” emails.

To be honest, I’m not that important anyway. I only thought I was 😀

3. Become a digital loner

I never used to mute work notifications; then I started muting them, but that still meant I could check them whenever I wanted. And of course, I did.

Now I go further, and II now delete key 'work' apps from my phone while I’m away, Outlook, Teams, and the softphone app, they all go, so I physically can't be interrupted, or be tempted to take a look. I can always easily reinstall them when I get back anyway. 

If I’m not looking at work messaging apps, I’m not thinking about work problems. It sounds a bit extreme, but the psychological weight that lifts is pure bliss. 

4. Buffer day(s)

I used to get back home after a holiday and go straight back to work the next day. In fact, once we got back early in the morning during the week, and by the afternoon I had logged back on. 

Now I make sure I have at least one full buffer day, preferably two. This gives me time to acclimatise and get back into a normal daily rhythm before I get cracking with work again. 

During these buffer days, I do not reinstall apps. I still count them as holiday days… because they are!

 

These four things alone have made my breaks calmer, cleaner, and far more peaceful.

And to be honest, they are usually well overdue.

My Fantasy Dinner Party Guest List

I’ve always kept a list on my phone of people I’d invite to a dinner party.

Now that I’ve got this digital garden, it felt like the right place to share it. It’s a bit of a mixed bag. Some are still with us, some are long gone, and a couple aren’t even real… but they’ve earned their seat at the table all the same.

I don’t even know if there are rules for this kind of thing. Should it be a set number of guests? Should it only include people who are alive and could actually turn up? Or is the whole point that there are no rules?

I’ve got no clear answer yet, so for now I’m just letting it grow. I’ll figure out my own rules as I go… or maybe I won’t.

Here’s the current guest list:

• Derek William Dick (Fish) – for the great singalong
• Warwick Davis – grounded, funny, and quietly wise
• Stephen Fry – effortless intelligence and warmth
• Norman Wisdom – nostalgia and so funny
• Stan Laurel – gentle humour, perfectly timed
• Richard Branson – big ideas and bigger stories
• Paul Daniels – a touch of magic at the table
• David Nixon – classic showmanship
• Bobby Ball – warmth and one funny guy
• Paul Gascoigne – unpredictable, but unforgettable
• Sandi Toksvig – sharp, kind, and brilliantly funny
• Richard E Grant – energy, honesty, and joy
• George Best – talent and tales in equal measure
• John Cooper Clarke – sharp words, delivered perfectly
• Dick Van Dyke – pure charm
• Bruce Wayne – because why not
• Charles Hawtrey – chaos, comedy and my grans fave
• Lee Mack – quick wit, no pause button
• Fred Dibnah – stories from a different world
• Ade Edmondson – a bit of edge
• Steve Harris – the stories and a quick lesson
• Karen Carpenter – a voice you’d want to hear live
• Steve Pemberton – clever, dark humour
• Audrey Hepburn – grace and perspective
• Buster Keaton – silent, but says everything
• Tom Hanks – easy company
• Herbert Henry Scaife – my great grandfather; I’d just love to meet him
• Steve Davis – calm, thoughtful, unexpected humour
• Freddie Mercury – presence that fills a room
• Paul Heaton – grounded, sharp observations
• Grayson Perry – perspective and honesty
• Monty Don – calm and balance

I suspect this list will keep changing. New names will come in, others might quietly drop out.

That probably says more about me than it does about the guest list.

I might do a seating plan at some time, that will be fun! 

PSPO Zones for All

Last summer we had a terrible time on our main road; cars, motorbikes, and even quad bikes were roaring up and down the road at all hours. At times it genuinely felt like certain people were using it as their own personal race track.

I mentioned it to our local Liberal Democrat councillor and, to be fair, within days they had contacted the Chief Constable of West Yorkshire Police and managed to get the road designated as a Public Spaces Protection Order (PSPO) zone.

PSPO zones are designed to tackle anti-social behaviour in specific areas. They can cover things like nuisance driving, public drinking, begging, intimidation, and other behaviour that affects local residents. Breaching a PSPO can lead to fixed penalty notices, fines of up to £1,000, or even prosecution.

From what I understand these zones normally last for three years, although they can be renewed if the problems continue.

But it did get me thinking...

Why do we wait until residents complain before action is taken? Should busy residential roads, shopping areas, and city centres automatically have some form of PSPO protection in place from the start?

I’m sure there’s a cost involved in creating and enforcing these zones, but in our area it genuinely seems to have worked. The road is noticeably quieter and calmer now.

So if they work this well, why not use them far more widely?

The Young Mans Haircut

I spent some time this weekend at a Turkish barber. I’ve always admired the craftsmanship in these places btw, there is a specific kind of intentional care they bring to the cuts that you rarely find in traditional salons.

​Anyway, toward the end of the cut, the barber paused and asked whether I usually style my hair up in a quiff or down over my forehead. When I told him "up," he smiled and noted that wearing it down would make me look younger.

​Being in my late 50s, the idea of "looking younger" isn't a primary goal of mine, in fact, I think trying too hard to recapture youth often looks a bit daft. However, the comment sparked a bit of digital curiosity. I decided to use AI to generate a version of myself with a younger mans hairstyle just to see the contrast.

​The result? It confirmed my instinct. While the AI could change the hair and smooth the edges, I much prefer the reality. There’s a certain comfort in looking like the age you actually are.

The Original Cut

AI Version 1

AI Version 2

AI Version 3

 

A Story 35 Years in the Making!

I’ve probably carried this idea around for more than 35 years.

It started with a lad I used to work with. I’ll call him Chris… mainly because that’s his name. He always said he had a novel in him. To be fair, most of us think that at some point. The problem, at least for me, is pulling enough connected ideas together to actually make a novel work. I tend to land on smaller ideas. Short stories feel more natural for me to write, that and I can be realy lazy, and writing at least 40-50,000 words is a bit much for me.

Chris had this very simple concept. A man dies, and at his funeral the people there slowly discover who he really was. That was it. Not much to go on I know, but it stuck with me.

Over the years, I’ve kept coming back to it. I’ve often pictured that man as me. The mourners talking, sharing bits, slowly building up a picture. The good things, the missed chances, the ideas that never quite made it. Almost autobiographical, in a way.

But if I’m honest, I don’t think my real life is interesting enough to carry a story like that. And it had to be about me because that's how I've always thought about this story, and tbh, the stories I’ve written recently, and another that I am currently working on now, they all start with something real in my life, a small truth (the crow corner I drive past almost every day, or the old Victorian doll/ghost my wife and I saw at a window one day, a grain of truth that drifts into the story.

And in my head, this story was always the same.

But because I'm not interesting enough, over time the character became someone else. Still rooted in that original idea, but more interesting, more layered, more worth writing about. In Chris’s version, I’m sure the twist was that the mourners started off disliking the man, then came to understand him, maybe even like him.

I could never quite make that wor for me and it always felt a bit flat.

But something clicked this morning.

I’ve got the twist now, and it flips the whole thing on its head.

This isn’t a story where people come to appreciate the man.

It’s the opposite, and I'm kinda looking forward to writing it.

What Is A Digital Garden?

I’ve had a few people ask what I mean when I call this site a digital garden, so this felt worth explaining properly (well, explaining itin my way anyway!).

A digital garden is a way of writing and sharing ideas online that focuses more on growth than polish. Instead of treating every post like a finished article that gets published and forgotten, a digital garden gives you space to plant ideas, come back to them, improve them, and link them to other thoughts over time. 

That is what I want this place to be.

A normal blog usually works as a timeline. Newest post at the top, older posts dropping further down, everything arranged by date. A digital garden feels different. It is more personal, more flexible, and a bit less concerned with looking finished. It is allowed to be a work in progress.

Now this is the tricky bit for me, I'm a marketer by trade, so publishing unfinished work is a very foreign concept to me, and I do find it really difficult, but by forcing myself, I usually have some seed posts on here.

So like a real garden is never really “done”. You add things, move things, cut things back, and sometimes leave a patch alone until you know what to do with it, a digital garden site works in a very similar way. Some posts here are more complete than others. Some are just ideas that needed somewhere to live. Some may grow into something better later on.

That is part of the appeal. It gives me room to think in public, without pretending every piece of writing needs to be a final draft.

So as well as 'seed' posts (initial ideas), I move them to 'sprout' when they are a bit more formed, and then 'flower' then I think they are complete.

It is also a very personal format. A garden reflects the person looking after it, and a digital garden does the same. Mine is a mix of stories, notes, opinions, half-formed ideas, rants, things I want to remember, and things I simply did not want to lose in the endless mess of phones, folders, and old platforms.

I’ll be honest, organising it has probably been the hardest part of doing this; I'm not the most organised person in the world, as I'm sure my wife would agree.

I’ve gone through a few different versions of labels, and I’ll probably change them again. That is not failure; it is just part of building something like this. The structure is still evolving, which feels quite fitting for a digital garden. It is meant to be a living space, not a fixed system.

Because I built this on Blogger, and not on a dedicated digital garden platform, some parts are a compromise. Posts still appear in chronological order, which is more traditional blog than digital garden. The deeper linking between ideas is also still a work in progress. I’d like more of that over time, because that is where a digital garden really starts to feel interesting. It becomes less about scrolling through posts and more about wandering through connected thoughts.

Even so, the shape of it is starting to feel right.

If you enjoy a particular kind of post, the labels at the end should help you find similar ones. I’ve also started doing a bit more curation, which I think matters. In a real garden, you place certain plants together because they look right next to each other. The same idea applies here. I have a Stories section to pull my original fiction into one place, and a Best Of section on the homepage for posts I think are worth a bit more attention.

I want to do more of that as the site grows.

There is also a Now page, inspired by the Now movement (it is a movement or a thought process!). That is just a simple page I update from time to time to show what I’m focused on at the moment. It is less about polished content and more about keeping a current marker in the ground.

Most of the code behind this site has been put together by me and layered on top of Blogger. I did not think I would get it this far, if I’m honest, but it has turned into something that feels surprisingly usable and very much my own.

Comments are turned off, and that is deliberate. This space is not really built around discussion. It is more about expression, collection, and exploration. I’m not putting things here to chase approval. I’m putting them here because I want a place for them to exist. You can't like or dislike anything either. All that is too much like social media (which I don't like).

That is probably the biggest difference between this site and some of the others I run. On other websites, I think about search traffic, keyword use, structure, and all the usual SEO details. Here, I mostly just write. That makes it feel calmer, more honest, and a lot more enjoyable.

If someone finds their way here and enjoys something, or finds it useful, that is a bonus. All posts can be shared by copying the URL 😀

I have also added site search, which I use a lot myself. That matters more than I thought ... once a site starts growing, being able to find old ideas quickly becomes part of the appeal for me.

So that is my version of a digital garden.

It is not perfect. It is not finished. It is probably a little messy around the edges. But that feels about right. It is personal, it is still growing, and it gives me a place to write without feeling like everything has to be polished, packaged, and done.

For me, that is the whole point.

Everything Was Already Here

It’s a strange thought when you sit with it for a minute and let your mind delve into it, that nothing around you is really “new”.

Every object you can see, your phone, your desk, the road outside, even the food you eat, all comes from the same limited set of elements that have always been here. We haven’t invented new matter. We’ve just got very good at rearranging what already exists.

Steel isn’t new. It’s iron, carbon, heat, and process.
Plastic isn’t new. It’s oil, broken down and rebuilt.
Glass is just sand that’s been pushed to its limits.

Even the complicated stuff, electronics, medicines, fuels, it all traces back to the same building blocks. And when you think about it, we’ve just become really good at using these elements.

I've never too sure whether this concept is reassuring or a worry!

All the progress, all the industries, all the things we take pride in as “made by us”, are really just clever transformations. We take what the planet gives us, and we reshape it into something useful, or sometimes something pointless. But as we use all this stuff, does it mean that at sometime we might run out fo something vital!

It does make you look at waste differently as well.

If everything we use is part of a closed system, then nothing really disappears. It just changes form and ends up somewhere else. Landfill isn’t “away”. It’s just a different version of the same materials, sitting in a different place.

I Do Not Owe My Future Self an Apology

Not sure if you would class this as an epiphany or just an interesting thought.

I’ve just updated my profile on nownownow.com, and one of the questions was something like, “Have I had a recent epiphany?”

For no special reason, the thought struck me that I do not owe my future self an apology for who I am today.

I think the life I have led, and the life I lead today, is a good one. My current level of knowledge is very good, and my current emotional capacity is also strong. My daughters are doing well, I have a beautiful wife, and I’m heading into the near future with retirement (and the freedom that brings) starting to feel real.

If I spend my life trying to become someone my “future self” won’t be ashamed of, I risk living a life that isn’t mine.

Perhaps that is the real epiphany.

I suppose, like could do today with my past self, my future self will look back and realise that every “mistake” or “flaw” I have today was actually a necessary stepping stone.

I don’t owe an apology for being what is effectively a work in progress. That’s just called being alive.

The End of the Invisible Audience

For years, almost 35 years, every time I sat down to write, I wasn't alone. The room was crowded with invisible people: the boss who was vertually dictating what I should write, the client who might get offended with the wrong word or phrase, the prospect I didn't want to scare off, and the Google (and all the social platforms) algorithm that demanded its pound of flesh in optimised keywords and the right hashtags.

I spent more time thinking about the consequences of virtually every single word and sentence than the point of writing it sometimes. Everything had to be sanitised, perfectly structured, and professional to a fault. It was usually writing by committee, even when the committee was just in my head.

Fuck that.

One of the biggest realisations in moving to this "Anti-Social" setup is how much energy I was wasting on people who don't actually exist. This isn't a marketing asset anymore. It’s not a lead-generation tool. It’s just a digital garden. It's me saying what I want to say, in the way I want to say it.

Stripping away the structured copy, certain posts or content having to be a particular length, the SEO, the Meta tags, thinking about imagery and the copywriters templates has given me something I’d forgotten I needed: the freedom to just write what I want. If a post is too short, fine. If it’s too blunt, even better. If it upsets someone who was looking for a "polished brand experience," they’re in the wrong place anyway.

From here on out, the only "audience" I’m writing for is myself. If you find something here that resonates, great, pull up a chair. But I’m done performing for the algorithm. I’m just going to say it as it is and let the chips fall where they may.

It’s liberating to finally stop caring.

Harry and Meghan Don’t Want to Vanish. They Just Want Boundaries

I keep seeing the same tired line about Harry and Meghan. If they want privacy so much, why are they still in the media?

But that question misses the point completely.

They are not asking to become invisible. They are asking for something most normal people would see as basic. Consent. A line between public work and private life.

If Meghan turns up for a charity event, gives an interview, launches a project, or backs a cause, that is public work. Fair enough. That comes with attention, scrutiny, and debate.

But home life, family moments, their children, and the parts of life that happen when the cameras should be off, that is different. That is not hypocrisy. That's just a boundary.

The latest coverage around Meghan, including her saying she had been “the most trolled person in the world” source: BBC, only underlines the problem. Public life does not give the public unlimited rights to a person’s private existence.

There is also the bit people either ignore, or pretend not to understand. Harry and Meghan no longer have taxpayer funding in the way working royals do. So yes, media, visibility, partnerships, and public-facing projects are part of how they earn a living. That is not some great scandal. That is their business model.

Plenty of high-profile people do exactly the same. Actors, presenters, writers, business owners, sports stars. They use their profile for work, and still expect to shut the front door at the end of the day.

That is what Harry and Meghan seem to be trying to do. Not disappear. Not dodge criticism. Just control their own story, earn their own money, and protect the parts of life that do not belong to the public.

Honestly, that does not sound outrageous to me. It sounds normal.

From Marketing Agency to Digital Garden

The Pivot: From Marketing Agency to Digital Garden

For over a decade, this corner of the internet has been my "office." It was a place for all things Marketing,  SEO tips and professional advice designed to help businesses rank, grow and thrive. It served its purpose, but lately, the walls have started to feel a bit thin.

The truth is, the internet has changed, and so have I. We’ve moved into the era of the "infinite scroll", a noisy stream of algorithmic drivel from people I don't particularly like and opinions I didn't ask for.

Take LinkedIn, for example. It used to be a place to actually learn and grow professionally. Now? it’s a performative circus. It’s become a race to the bottom of "thought leadership" and engagement bait. I realised I’m done contributing to that noise. I missed the old web, the one where personal blogs felt like actual conversations instead of polished sales pitches or desperate grabs for a "like."

Why I’m Clearing the Deck

I’m moving away from the "Marketing Agency" template, both literally and figuratively. This site is now a Digital Garden. It’s a personal social site without the social pressure or the ego-driven metrics.

It’s a place for things that don't necessarily "scale" or "convert," but actually matter to me:

• The "Now": A simple log of what I’m actually doing, reading, and thinking today.
• Consumer Rights: Ranting with a purpose when the system fails.
• Beer Reviews: Because life is too short for bad pints and even shorter for bad reviews.
• Rants: I like a rant, I've proud that I've finally become a "grumpy old man".
• Politics: I used to argue about politics with grandad, not that we had different opinions, we just enjoyed it - I can do it here now.
• Contract Shenanigans: The real-world headaches from me where I've taken on all sorts of businesses - and won! 

The Benefits

By stripping away the professional "armour," I get to write more honestly. You get a feed that isn't trying to sell you a consulting package or a "proven framework."

I saw Bear Blog, and it's a good looking platform, but I had so nuch stuff in Blogger I really didn't want to lose any of it, but I liked the styling of it, I liked the minimalistic look and feel of it, then I started reading about Digital Gardens, and I thought that was me. So, I’ve moved to a much leaner, minimalist Blogger setup. No tracking cookies, no "suggested posts", no comments, or Like buttons; just text (and the occasional pic), it's me, the real me.

The old marketing archives are still here if you need them, but the new growth is going to look a little different. It’ll be shorter, more frequent, and significantly more human.

Thanks for sticking around for the rebrand. I’m looking forward to screaming into the void again, only this time, without the LinkedIn "influencers" screaming back.

— Andy